All That's Left Is Molecules of You
by SheWritesInCursive
Summary: [Mike/Kate!AU] Sometimes there's more left over at the end than just broken hearts.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So my brain isn't working for _The X's Ex, _but it does like writing this. So have a new fic.

* * *

_All__ That's Left Is Molecules of You_

* * *

Kate's first thought is that graduation drinks are definitely out now. And then she laughs out loud at just how stupid a thought that was. As if that was an issue worth worrying about now. That a simple night out at a pub could be her first concern in a situation like this.

But the infodump of the last few weeks had been gruelling and the exams are definitely going to be worse and, _hell, _she's only twenty-three and she's been looking forward to going out and letting her hair down. After studying her heart out for weeks, months, _years, _she's definitely earned at least a _few _drinks with Libby and Boxer and the rest of their fellow graduates. And now she wouldn't be able to because of one stupid mistake and...

And there she goes again. Obsessing about stupid things like drinks when-

"I'm on the pill." She stammers the words like a child, tugging at her dog tags. She can't keep the pleading from her tone as she stares imploringly at this doctor in front of her, even though she knows that no doctor would have spent all that time and money for medical school just to stand here now and prank her.

"The pill is not always one hundred percent reliable, Katie. Missing a tablet-"

"It's just Kate. No one calls me Katie. Not since I was a kid, anyway." Kate interjects, dragging a hand through her hair, snagging on knots she'd been too distracted to tackle that morning. And for a moment, her mind goes on another tangent as she wishes for the millionth time her mother hadn't added that 'I' on her birth certificate. Katie was the name of a child. Not a Naval Officer.

"Kate." Dr Grey corrects herself respectfully, her voice still that same calm murmur she had been through the entire appointment.

"And I haven't. Missed any pills, I mean. I've taken it every single day at the same time for seven years." She tries hard to keep the bite from her tone, because she knows that Dr Grey is not trying to be disrespectful. But it feels as though Kate's whole intelligence is up for debate, as if this situation here was punishment for Kate's stupidity.

_Isn't it?_

The doctor doesn't seem to be taken aback by Kate's defensiveness though. Instead, she looks thoughtful, as though this supposed medical mystery is simply a Sunday Crossword she's keen to solve. "Well, there have been reports to suggest certain other factors like various medications, antibiotics, even grapefruit has been suggested to cause issues in the pill's effectiveness. Of course, there is still so many mysteries in the human body. But have you perhaps been on any other medications?"

Kate swallows nervously, remembering the sinus infection she just hadn't been able to shake. "I... I had a course of antibiotics about six weeks ago. Or... or seven, maybe?" She trails off, because one week won't change the outcome.

Dr Grey gives a soft smile. "Look, Kate, I can't tell you for sure why your contraception failed. All I can tell you is that we've ran your blood work three times and you yourself did two home tests. And you are definitely pregnant." _Pregnant. Pregnant. _The words are ringing in her ears over and over again. "But you do have options. Having a child-"

"I know the options." Kate snaps, more harshly than she had intended. Then she curses and sinks lower into her seat. "I'm sorry. I just... I just can't believe..." She trails off, and her eyes travel back to the poster that had caught her eye the moment she'd first arrived in Dr Grey's office - the cross-section of a child in the uterus. "I just don't know what to do."

Dr Grey nods coolly, seemingly unperturbed by Kate's outburst. "Well, Kate, we have a bit of time, so I'm going to go over your options very briefly just to make sure we cover all our bases. Is that okay?" Kate's gaze snaps back to Dr Grey, and she wonders vaguely how old the doctor was, whether she has had children or ever been pregnant. Clenching her shaking hands together, Kate nods, and Dr Grey continues. "Well, obviously you can choose to raise this child. There are many fantastic organisations and groups that can offer you all sorts of support, information and education, both before and after birth. Adoption is a good option if you don't want to terminate the pregnancy. Many families can't have their own child and your baby could help them complete a family, with negotiations made to consider how much, if any, contact and information you would have about the adopted child. Or there's a termination, the benefit being that no one would know and you wouldn't have to proceed with the pregnancy. Although we don't do those sorts of procedures here, I can give you a referral if needed. But I want to stress that this is not a decision you need to make right at this moment." Dr Grey folds her arms neatly in front of her and smiles softly. "Would you like to tell me about the father?"

Kate feels her breath hitch in her throat, like it always does when she thinks about Mike Flynn. "He's..." She hesitates for a moment. "We had two weeks together. And they were perfect. But... it had to end. And... and I thought it was all over. Until..." She trails off, because _this_ is the hitch in the plan. _This _is the moment that can't be passed over. She might be able to act as though their fortnight together hadn't happened, but she can't ignore this.

"And does he know about your suspicions of pregnancy?"

"No." Kate shakes her head. "No. And he can't know." It's the first time she's felt truly panicked since finding out. "He can _never _know. Please..." She doesn't know why she adds the 'please'. After all, it's not as though Doctor Grey here would tell Mike Flynn and break confidentiality, even if she _had _known him. And, hell, she's not sure if she's begging Dr Grey to keep the secret, or some higher entity she's never really believed in. All she knows is that Mike Flynn can never find out about this.

"So I take it he's not in your life anymore?"

Kate lets out a wry laugh and scrapes her hair from her face. "The exact opposite." She murmurs with a humourless smile. "I see him every single day."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Wow, thanks for the overwhelming response! A few questions to answer too. Yes, this is set during Watson's Bay before the series started. Obviously I've never been there, so I'm taking a few liberties with the structure of the day in terms of lessons, instructors, morning activities, etc. Was kind of difficult to mind much clear information about that. I've got Kate as a Sub-Lieutenant and Mike as a Lieutenant Commander, because I know how reluctant he was to take promotions and all. And, no, Kate definitely didn't plan to get pregnant. Took a few creative liberties with that one too. Anywho, back into it. Oh, and the name Dr Grey? Complete fluke haha  
_

* * *

"Yo, Princess. You almost turned into a pumpkin." Boxer's loud, booming voice rings across the chattering of their classmates as they all line up outside the _Advanced Navigation _classroom, arms laden with text books, papers and bags. Boxer's voice at least seems to attract the attention of several of their classmates, some of whom turn to look at her, smirks on their faces, always interested in egging on the ongoing banter between Boxer and Kate.

They've been competitive from the moment they'd first enlisted and met at basic training, comparing lap times in and out of the water, taking bets at the gun range as to who could get the most accurate shot and just generally teasing each other. Boxer would say she was the little sister he never wanted. Kate would remind him that she was two weeks older than him, _thank you very much. _Then they'd laugh and challenge each other to something else.

Now, however, she has no quips left to fire back. Her whole being is just so focused on her dilemma, she finds she's too distracted to come up with anything witty to fire back at him. For a moment, she racks her brain, desperate for something to throw back in his face, something to restore normality, so she could at least pretend that the world wasn't falling down around her feet. But there's nothing. No. Her brain is simply screaming one word at her over and over again. _Baby. Baby. Baby. _So she settles with simply flipping him off (praying she doesn't look _too _distracted) before finding her place in line, and a moment later sees Libby finish her conversation with another classmate and move over to her.

"Where have you been? You totally ditched me at lunch. More worryingly, you _weren't _in the library during study period? Which means it is now after 1400 hours and you _haven't _set foot in the library today." She jokingly presses a hand to Kate's forehead, as though checking her temperature. "Wait! Let me guess..." She adopts an exaggerated thinking face, then smirks. "Buying books?" Libby pokes Kate's backpack and pulls a face. "I don't know, Kate. Sounds heavy." Kate simply rolls her eyes and Libby continues talking in her usual jabbering fashion. "I tell you what, though, joke's on you, because you missed a _fantastic_ lunch! Roast chicken, soft bread rolls, salads to die for-"

"Really?" Kate frowns, Libby's words successfully pulling her from her thoughts.

Libby scoffs. "Of course not! Same SCRAN as usual. But I had you going there for a moment, didn't I? Can you hold this for a sec? Thanks." She passes Kate her folder full of exercise books and pens, and sets about resecuring her long brown hair in the regulation-style bun. Not for the first time, Kate feels that twinge of jealousy that Libby didn't need a mirror, at least ten minutes and a hairbrush to make it look flawless. Hair successfully off her face once more, she takes back her things, smiling. "Anyway," Libby continues. "Did you get anything exciting in town? Or just a new set of highlighters?"

_An unexpected pregnancy, actually. _"Ah…" Kate hesitates for a moment, forcing herself to act normal. She can't even tell Libby that she went to the doctors, because Libby is sure to pester her until she manages to find out the truth and then... "Had to go to the shops. Just the good old Navy Starter pack – a new tin of coffee and a box of Nurofen." She could go for some Nurofen now, actually. Already, a tension headache is forming. Can she still have painkillers if she's...

Mentally adding it to the list of things she _doesn't _know about being pregnant, she turns back to face Libby, who is frowning in concern at her. "Are... are you okay, Kate? You... you look a bit pale?"

"Yeah." She answers, too quickly to sound unsuspicious, and she can see the concern growing in Libby. And, hell, she's known Libby since they first enlisted as well, alphabetical order pretty much ensuring that _MacDonald _and _McGregor _were generally together, and they've been best friends ever since. So Libby knows her, has always been able to see through her emotions. And so she needs to say _something _to get Libby off her back. Libby knowing would make it real. And she can't handle that yet. Speaking with a sense of humour she's certainly not feeling, Kate continues. "Oh, come on! I'm always pale. Practically blue next to you." She forces herself to smile, holding her arm up. True to her words, Kate's arm is ghostly white next to Libby's brilliantly tanned skin, and Libby grins.

"This is true, Casper." She quips, "But-" But a door opens, saving Kate the hassle of having to explain any more, and Libby gives a wry smile, shifting her bag slightly. "Back at it, I guess." She murmurs, filing forwards. Kate follows, heart hammering so loudly that she can barely hear Libby's absent-minded chattering about how she hopes the afternoon goes more quickly than the morning. For her part though, Kate is a million miles away, or maybe just trying desperately to remain in the present and not drift off to thoughts of yesteryear.

This is it. This is the test.

Her heart clenches as she makes eye contact with her lecturer, but she holds the salute anyway, praying her hand is steady. "McGregor." He greets respectfully, holding her gaze for the briefest of moments.

"Lieutenant Commander Flynn." She murmurs back, feeling another piece of herself crumble away.

* * *

"Come on! Come on!" Mike- No. Lieutenant Commander Flynn (she needs to stop thinking of him as Mike) calls from the front of the class, waving a hand impatiently at the stragglers. "Sub-Lieutenant Boxer, I know that you are a hilarious individual, but might we keep your comedy out of the classroom?"

"Sorry, Sir!" Boxer calls good-naturedly back at him. "Just trying to lighten the mood." He takes a seat and begins to unpack his bag. "But carry on, Sir."

Mike gives a light chuckle of laughter. "Why, thank you very much, Boxer." He turns to the class at large. "I understand that many of you would rather be... anywhere but here." There are a few murmurs of ascent. "And for those counting along, we only have thirty-four more days of this course. I would... _much _rather be on my boat right now, but we are where we are. So... shall we delve into it?"

* * *

After her last class of the day, she skips dinner in the hall in favour of ducking back to her room to quickly change before going for a walk to clear her head. During the last class of the day, her stomach (suddenly ravenous) had grumbled so loudly that Boxer, Donoghue and many others had been silently laughing from the other side of the room as Kate sat mortified, arms wrapped around her stomach in a futile attempt to muffle it.

But the thought of the bulk-reheated tinned spaghetti and tubs of instant-mashed potato is making her stomach roll over, so, intent on finding something a bit more edible, she makes her way down the paths offering sweeping views of the water, alternatively tugging her cardigan tighter across her body to protect herself from the biting sea breeze, then letting it go again when she realises it is pulling against her stomach, even though there's nothing visible there yet.

Kate's own mother had a child before she was ready. In fact, in Kate's earliest memories, Donna McGregor had been Kate's own age now, as she'd been barely eighteen when Kate had arrived. That had been the first of the many crimes of Kate, at least in Donna's eyes - that she had spent her eighteenth birthday "_in labour with you, kid, when I should've been out having fun!_" No, Donna had definitely not been ready for a child, and Kate knew it was not love that had brought her into this world.

No. Motherhood was not in her blood. She knew only from Donna's rants that her grandmother (curiously also named Kate, despite the estrangement at the point of Kate's arrival) was not overly maternal either, with her faith put in Jesus with none to spare for the neglected girl that had later turned to sex for affection.

"I can't have a kid." Kate mutters, her body at odds with her words as a hand brushes along her belly. All around her, families surround her. Families with mothers that have happy faces plastered across their faces, and children with no scars to hide behind long sleeves. How could she be a mother, when every fiber of her DNA told her she couldn't be? When generations of maternal neglect are stacking the odds against her?

She follows the footpath right, away from the water and towards the shops and wide, open parks, with no real destination in mind other than food.

She'd walked this way with Mike.

The realisation is enough to stop her in her tracks, and a moment later she's muttering a hasty apology to the bicycle rider who has to brake at the last second to avoid her. Cursing softly, she quickly changes direction again, towards the ferry terminals, trying desperately to forget the way Mike's hand had rested on the small of her back, or the way he'd smiled at her, eyes twinkling.

Just for a moment, she entertains the idea of telling Mike about her pregnancy. Would he be excited? He'd talked happily enough about his new baby niece, hadn't he? Surely, he'd want to be involved in his own child's life? But then she reminds herself that, even if she _is _keeping this baby, the Navy would end both of their careers if they were to find out.

_And just what are you expecting, exactly? _She asks herself, trying desperately to shake herself from the fantasy world in her head. _Him there for all the midnight upsets, or open-armed for the first toddling steps? _"You heard him talk about _Hammersley._" She mutters to herself, snapping the hair-tie against her wrist. "Get real."

"Thirty-four more days!" Kate's thoughts are jolted from her mind as an arm suddenly links with hers, singing at the top of her lungs, and she has to shift her feet in record time to stop herself from falling flat on her face from Libby's sudden and unexpected momentum as Libby sings a song of her own invention. "_Thirty-four more freaking days of this and then we're done! Thirty-four more freaking days and then we'll have some fun!_"

"Libby!" Kate feels her heart racing in her ear as she successfully frees herself from her best friend's clutches. "You scared the crap out of me."

Libby looks unapologetic, and rolls her eyes. "Hey, you're off in La-La-Land. That's not on me. I've been calling out to you for bloody five minutes. Been jogging since I saw you at the lighthouse. Felt like we were back at bloody PT again. Why the power-walking, babes?" She grins her usual mischievous smile and Kate feels her fear and irritation melt away. "Have you managed to find something to eat yet, or is your stomach still digesting itself?"

"Sorry. I was just..." For a moment, the urge to confess almost overpowers her. But then she remembers that, aside from admitting that she'd broke fraternisation rules to say the very least, Libby was, if nothing else, a hopeless romantic. If Libby found out she was pregnant, she'd be rattling off lists of baby names before Kate could even finish her sentence. So she trails off, brushing the hair from her face, then forces herself to act normal. "Nope. Still intent on food. But yeah, totally off in my own world. Got a brain full of tidal charts and maritime history jammed into my brain. I think I stopped absorbing general conversation last week after Hourigan and his droning on about 1939's Daily Narratives. I mean, it's so interesting that we still have these records, but Hourigan might as well be reading the phone book for all the enthusiasm he puts into his lectures."

Libby smiles affectionately at Kate, shaking her head. "You're such a nerd, McGregor. You've probably already read them all."

Kate refuses to give Libby the satisfaction of knowing she's right. "I read _some, _thank you very much. And you can learn a lot from the past."

"Yap yap yap." Libby grins.

"Whinge whinge whinge." Kate counters as they make their way towards the bustling of tourists along the shopfronts. "You hungry?"

* * *

In the end, Kate's hunger wins out against their desire to wait for a table, and they grab takeaway sandwiches to the park instead of waiting for a seat at one of the crowded restaurants. They sit leaning against a towering tree, and for the most part, they eat in silence, watching the people around. Kate can smell Libby's sandwich more than her own, because Libby always loved to add aioli and onion to her sandwiches ("Hey, any guy that gets to kiss me should thank his lucky stars, no matter what my breath smells like"), and as Kate picks at her own, less pungent sandwich, she finds her mind beginning to wander once more.

There are families everywhere. Unfortunately for Kate, and her current dilemma, they've chosen a spot right in front of the playground, and children are everywhere, sliding down the equipment, running after footballs and pumping their legs on swings. Kids. Could she ever be one of those mums? But despite her concentration, she just can't seem to imagine herself there amongst all these supermums. She was used to carrying books around, not bottles and nappies, and while she is confident manoeuvring a warship, the thought of one of those sleek prams terrifies the hell out of her.

Though not quite on the same wavelength as Kate, Libby seems to follow her gaze, because she suddenly exclaims, "Aww, how cute is that little girl! The one in the Dora dress chasing the bubbles."

Not knowing what the hell a Dora is, it takes a moment for Kate to figure out which child Libby is talking about, but soon spots her. In any case, she can't help but smile as the little girl squeals in delight, letting out a small skip-like jump in order to catch one of the bubbles her mother is blowing her way. "She is cute." Kate agrees tentatively, smiling softly at the family in front of her. "Uh... how old do you reckon she is? Like two?"

"Oh no." Libby takes another bite of her sandwich and shakes her head. Kate can hear her onion crunching between her teeth. "Nah, she can't be more than just over a year, I'd say. She's too small. If you look at the way she's walking, you can see she's still pretty new at it. A bit bow-legged too. See how her legs curve? She must get carried a lot." Lib lets out another laugh as the girl claps both hands and successfully pops another bubble. "Aww, look how clever she is!"

Kate looks at the girl, but wonders whether bubbles actually have any benefit beyond the pretty figure they form. "She's just clapping her hands together?" Kate murmurs tentatively.

Libby seems unfased by Kate's uncertainty. "Well bubbles are good for exploring scientific concepts. You know, there's gravity, air flow, reflection, surface tension... exploring bubbles can help build a basis for further exploration. Plus, physically, catching them requires hand-eye coordination, and the child has to learn to track each bubble visually, and-"

"Yeah, forgot you were a childcare teacher once, Miss _Wibby_." Kate smiles at her friend to make sure she knows that she's not being deliberately hurtful, but Libby seems far away. She was always full of stories of her children from her two years in childcare, even when it was years even still wrote letters every week to her old centre, detailed letters full of child-friendly stories of the Navy's adventures.

Libby smiles softly. "I want like a million kids." She says, more to herself. The statement doesn't surprise Kate in the least. After all, out of the two of them, it was Libby who always seemed to find some random kid to play peekaboo with, or had what seemed like hundreds of nieces and nephews to babysit. No. Libby was the one destined to be a Mum. Not Kate.

Kate returns her attention back to her sandwich, even though it's getting harder and harder to swallow. "Why... why don't you have one then?"

Libby lets out a snort of laughter, as though Kate's genuine suggestion is nothing more than a humorous joke. "Yeah, I kind of need a man for that."

"Well... really only for the start, right?" Kate fiddles with the paper wrappings that had surrounded her sandwich, her whole body tense in anticipation for Libby's answers.

Libby shrugs. "With my mother? She'd disown me! No." Her smile grows slightly as she looks at the girl once more. "No, I think when I have kids, I want it all. The doting partner, the white picket fence. The pet dog. You know? The whole thing." She digs in her bag for a second and pulls out her water bottle. "Why? What about you? You ever dreamed about having kids?"

"I guess... not really. But recently..." Her eyes find the girl once more, watching as her mother wraps her in a tight hug. "I guess, I'm thinking about it more lately." And the urge to confess what Dr Grey had told her washes over her, because she needs some sort of advice, some help.

"But it'll be after you're Chief of Navy and married to Brad Pitt, hey?"

And it's easier, really, to force a laugh and roll her eyes. "I never really was a Brad Pitt fan." She replies.

"Hey, there's someone out there for you." Libby manages to stop a stray soccer ball with a foot and send it skidding back to its owner. Kate shrugs, digging her feet into the ground.

"I guess just some people are meant to be alone. Every guy I've dated has just..." She trails off. Every guy except one. Except him. The only guy she'd ever imagined a future together with.

"Oh, come _on_! How many guys have you _actually _dated? Since high school, I mean?"

Kate rolls her eyes, even though her heart is leaping about in her chest. "There... there have been a few."

"Well, none you ever deigned to tell me about, so..." Libby raises her eyebrow in a pointed manner, then smiles. "Not that I can really speak, hey. Evan dumped me to take his ex back."

"Not the pizza girl?" Kate splutters, recalling the stories Libby had told of the awkward time she and Evan had ordered pizza, only to have his ex arrive to deliver it.

"Yeah." Libby aims a kick at a rock on the floor. "The bastard. Good riddance, though." She grins again. "We'll find someone. When we least expect it."

And unseen by Libby, Kate touches a hand to her stomach. "Yeah." She agrees quietly.

* * *

"Urgh, kill me now." Kate groans as her alarm goes off, the soothing chimes anything but. She just resists the urge to throw it across the yard.

A moment later, another alarm sounds, this one playing the opening riff to _Thunderstruck, _and Libby's disheveled voice comes, muffled by sleep as she shifts in her bed. "Don't tell me Kate-Kate-Never-Late wasn't awake before her alarm went off?"

Lobbing a pillow blindly in Libby's direction, she closes her eyes tight against the sudden light from Libby's lamp, wishing for just another hour of sleep. She'd barely slept the night before, thoughts of the growing _thing _inside of her swirling around and around until well after midnight. "I do not have the heart to run this morning." Libby mutters under her breath, the same way she does every morning. Except, usually, Kate is already dressed and doing yoga or stretching. A moment later, Kate feels a hand shake her bed. "Come on, Kate!"

She wants nothing more than to stay here, and she contemplates feigning illness. But then she sighs heavily. She can't draw attention to herself like that. If she ends up in the medical unit and anyone found out... well, she'd be off the course quicker than she could say _oops._ No. There was a reason she'd gone to an ordinary doctor. "Are you not well?" Libby frowns as she watches Kate drag herself from bed. "You're normally up for hours before the alarm?"

"Yeah, Lib." Kate tries to assure herself as much as Libby. "I'll be fine."

* * *

"Uh! That was grueling!" Libby reties her hair as they make their way towards the food hall for breakfast after their early morning activity of the day - a five k run around the field. The run, while usually making Kate feel better and more awake, has today had the opposite effect. After a mostly sleepless night, Kate is fighting nausea and exhaustion hard. Even Libby's determined walking towards the food hall is slightly too fast for Kate, and she is struggling to keep up. "I could murder some bacon right about now. What do you think the chances are of there being sundried tomatoes and spinach omelettes?"

She wishes Libby would stop talking about food. "About zero, I'd guess." Kate manages thickly.

Mercifully, Libby doesn't seem to have noticed. "Well, hey, a girl can dream, right?" She takes a swig from her water bottle and continues. "Hey, can I flick through your notes on Flynn's last lesson during brekky? I swear, I only understood about half of what he was saying and you always seem to be on the same wavelength as him."

Kate feels her stomach do another flop at the mention of his name. "Sure." She stammers, stomach churning as she slows down, knowing that if she keeps going she is bound to collapse. "Look, go to brekky. I'm not that hungry." She scrabbles in her bag and tugs out the exercise book with her notes from _Advanced Navigation. _"Take it. I'll meet you-" She takes a step backwards.

Libby stops and turns back to Kate, concern growing. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Kate tries to smile but, judging by the ever-increasing worry on Libby's face, it's more of a grimace. "I think I just pushed myself too hard." Even standing is a struggle, and Kate takes a few steps to the side so she can lean against a heavy tree trunk. "Lib, just go get some SCRAN."

"I can wait for you." Libby assures her. "Just sit for a sec. Then we can go together and you can get your hideous concoction of Coco Pops and Yogurt- _oh babe!_" Kate doubles over suddenly and retches. In an instant, Libby runs to her side, tugging stray hairs from her face. "Dude, what's wrong?" The nausea is filling her like nothing else, and she feels herself flushed with embarrassment. Not only is Libby right there, their classmates are still walking by, some, judging by the fleeting snatches of conversation she catches, concerned, others disgusted. She coughs a few more times, curses, then swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I should have guessed you were sick. You never sleep in!" Libby rummaged in her bag for a moment, then hands Kate a small packet of tissues. Kate takes them with a mixture of gratitude and shame.

When she's finally cleaned up, Kate forces a weak smile. "Sorry, Lib. I... I'm fine."

Libby gives her an unimpressed look. "You're not fine, Kate. I mean, we've dormed together all through basic training _and _here now, and I've seen you with the flu and hungover as fuck after a night out, but I've _never _seen you puke. You're never sick." Kate has nothing to say to that. "Look, go to the nurses office and get a note to excuse yourself. You shouldn't have done morning EMA if you felt like this."

"It's the Navy, Lib. They're not going to let me out because I feel a bit dodgy, and I... I think I just didn't drink enough water this morning." She forces herself to stop shaking. "Look, I'm going to head to the drinks machine and just get myself a gatorade or something. You go have breakfast and I'll see you later, okay?"

Libby still looks hesitant. "I don't think I should leave you."

Kate shakes her head and points to the breakfast hall. "No. Just go! You know if you don't, then today will be the day they've got a five star caterer. Just... just bring me some waffles and ice cream if they make that, okay?" She forces another smile, and, this time, it seems as though Lib at least _somewhat _believes her.

"Okay." She murmurs reluctantly. "But... drink some water, okay? And if you get any worse, you're off to medical, okay? Or... or I'll tell Commander Olinsky his star pupil is crook. He'll take you straight to the hospital."

"Okay." Kate nods dutifully, with a mocking salute.

As she walks away, Libby turns around and calls after her. "You know, if I was family friends with a Commander, I'd use that connection to my advantage!"

* * *

Only when she's sure that Libby is out of sight, does Kate let her smile fall. Dashing towards the nearest bathroom, Kate just makes it to the cubicle before she vomits again, and she's glad at least that, this time, no one is around to see it. The thought of food at the moment has her stomach churning, and the morning run has done nothing but make her feel worse.

For the most part, she'd managed to hide the vomiting from Libby, leaving early and heading to the empty bathrooms during breakfast time. But she knows she can't keep going on like this, vomiting in secret. "Just give it a rest." She mutters to her middle. "If you want to actually get into this world, then I'm going to need a job."

She allows herself a moment, resting her head against the toilet roll holder and thinking of anything but just how many germs must be around her. She has another appointment with Dr Grey the day after next, and she makes a mental note to ask for something for nausea then.

Flushing the toilet, she moves out and begins to wash her face and hands.

Does she look any different?

She peers at her reflection in the mirror, at the shadows underneath her eyes and her pale complexion. Nothing about her is even remotely maternal. Nothing about her looks capable of raising a child.

And for the millionth time since she'd seen that missed red circle on her calendar, she finds herself cursing everything about Mike Flynn. But not just him. At herself and her own stupidity, at the childish belief that she could be loved, that she could throw caution to the wind and expect to escape with no consequences.

And, gripping the sink, she finds she hates herself as much, maybe even more, as she hates Mike Flynn.

Swiping a wet hand against the mirror, her reflection distorts, the water successfully masking the fear in her eyes. And maybe, just maybe, she can kid herself that the rest of the world can't see her properly either.

Intent on nothing more than getting away, into the fresh air, Kate turns on her heel and leaves the bathroom...

And runs straight into him.

Not for the first time, she's overwhelmed by how truly unfair this situation is. That in amongst this massive campus, it is him that she runs into, probably with vomit-tinged breath and a sweaty forehead. She takes a hurried step backwards, and it's no consolation that he looks just as taken aback to see her as she is him.

"K- uh... S-Sub-Lieutenant McGregor." The ghost of her first name lingers in the air, and she has to fight memories of all the times he'd said it in the great _before. _"Uh..." He eyes the bathroom suspiciously. "Are you okay?"

"Quite alright, Sir." Kate tries to keep her voice as curt as possible. She doesn't want his sympathy or his concern. "And you?"

"Oh. Okay." He looks over her shoulder before frowning in concern. "Why aren't you at breakfast?"

She feels the anger wash over herself again. How dare he? How _dare _he?! She longs to shout, to tell him that he has no right to show concern over her. She wants to wound him, wants him hurting as much as she is. And, God, can't he see that it's killing her to stand in front of him and pretend that she can't feel the ghost of his touch on her hip, or the warmth of his touch. To pretend that her heart isn't breaking every single time she looks at him.

She wonders whether he is feeling even a fraction of what she is. Then she remembers that she doesn't want to think of him at all.

"Kate..." He begins, and it's the other voice. The voice he'd used when he'd showed her that remote beach where it seemed like they were the only two people on the earth. Or the voice after they'd first kissed. And the voice he'd used when he'd ended it all.

"Sir." She feels as though she's pleading with him. _Please, just make this easier on me. _But his eyes are darting around in that same way they did after they first saw each other in the classroom, before everything fell apart, and she knows he's making sure that they're alone.

"Kate, about... about what happened-" But she shakes her head furiously.

"No. I'm not talking about this now." She snaps, as curtly as she can when she's feeling this dodgy. "You're my instructor, Lieutenant Commander. Nothing more."

He doesn't look surprised by her anger. He tips his head, trying again. "If things had been different... the timing-"

Kate scoffs. "Timing didn't seem to matter to you the last time." She spits at him, feeling a flash of satisfaction when he winces.

"Kate-"

"No! Don't _Kate _me!" She hisses. "You said we would talk and figure it... _this..._ out. Then you screwed me and tried and failed to sneak out before I woke, knowing full well I'd see you in class the next day. _You _don't get to try to justify what you did. I'm not a toy you can put away in a cupboard with the intention of playing with it later." She wants to say more, she has a million different things to say to him, whole paragraphs she's rehearsed late at night to explain the heartache and anger she is still holding at the way he had ended things.

But there's the sound of footsteps and Kate catches sight of a familiar uniform-clad Commander making their way towards them.

"Commander Olinsky." Kate calls out, a little more loudly then she would normally have, cursing her luck, because just when she wants nothing more than privacy to throw up in peace, she runs into the only two instructors she knows outside of Watson's Bay. The name feels foreign on her tongue, because she's known him as Mr O since she was a kid, but she greets him professionally nonetheless.

"McGregor!" He smiles brightly, in that same way he always has with her, and returns her salute. "Don't let Mighty Mike Flynn convince you to do anything reckless. Give him long enough and he'll have you bending every rule in the book."

Kate just manages to hide the wince. "Gee, thanks Rowan." Mike lets out a laugh that Kate can see is forced. "You really give me a bad rap, you know that?"

"If the cowboy boots fit." Olinsky adds, patting Kate on the back. "You should get some SCRAN before class."

"I'm just headed there now." Kate lies, smiling at Olinsky before nodding at Mike. "Sir." She adds. And without another word, she leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate barely suppresses a shiver and draws her jacket tighter across her body to protect herself a little better against the cool sea breeze blowing at her hair. The movement does little to make her feel any warmer, and yet she still makes no efforts to move away, staring out at the waves crashing against the rocks at The Gap. Illuminated only by the moon, the water glistens eerily in the half-light.

The water had always fascinated her, even as a child. She'd always begged to go to the sea, loving the way the water moved, and the cool salt spray upon her lips. Even when they'd been living in England, she'd looked upon Southend Pier as the divider between her own ordinary world, and those of her fantasies, of mermaids and seahorses and magic.

Of course, she was older now, and had long outgrown mermaids and fairies and all the other childish notions. Or she had. Until she'd met him.

She sighs and touches a hand to the railing, relishing in the cool metal against her skin. As she closes her eyes, she tries to match her breathing to the crashing of the waves, and soak in the peace of the place. Not that it was a particularly peaceful place, standing in the footsteps of so many who had jumped to their deaths. But The Gap had always relaxed Kate and, in this moment, she needs as much tranquility and calm as she can get.

Because she is having a baby.

Or maybe she isn't.

She just can't decide.

Who is she kidding?

She can't have a child

She can't.

No.

And yet she finds herself, sometimes, when her mind is far away, touching a hand to her middle, drawing comfort from the growing life.

She hears footsteps behind her, but doesn't turn around immediately. Despite the late hour, this is still a popular walking track, with so many late-night travelers utilising the paths. It isn't until she hears the slight throat-clearing behind her, that she realises they've stopped. And also, who they are. Without turning around, or even opening her eyes, Kate speaks. "What do you want?"

She hears Mike shuffle his feet awkwardly. "I saw you standing here. I... I just..." He trails off, allowing the waves to take over the sound for a moment. "I guess, I don't know why I came over. I just... I wanted to see you."

She turns around slowly, and it feels stupid to be thinking about how she has just thrown a t-shirt and jacket on without putting a bra on first and her daggiest trackies and, technically, she's wearing bedsocks and thongs. But she was never going to dress up for a walk at 0200 hours. Even so, she zips her jacket a little higher before meeting his gaze. "I was just walking." She murmurs, even though she doesn't need to explain anything to him. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." Mike shrugs tentatively. "Guess I kind of overdid it with the coffee today. I'm still wired." He turns his back to the ocean and leans against the guardrail. "I finished _The Iliad _tonight."

"Really?" She smiles before she can help herself, and a memory, unwelcome and brilliant, bombards her. And she remembers the dazzling morning sun spilling in through hotel windows, and her skin warm on his, with one hand trailing through her hair and the other holding a book in hand as he read aloud to her.

"Yeah." He swivels his heel into the ground. "Skipped out on dinner to finish it. Couldn't wait until afterwards. Finally fell asleep and then woke up an hour later wide awake and starving." He holds up an empty muesli bar wrapper. "So here I am. What's keeping you up?"

Once more, she allows herself the briefest of moments to imagine telling him the truth. Of a life together, of mornings spent just like those had been, where the only thing they'd really needed was each other. Then, she pushes it all down inside of her. "I haven't been sleeping well."

It's the truth. An evasive truth, but a truth nonetheless.

Mike moves, and for a moment Kate is sure he is going to put an arm around her. Then he stops, and the weight of everything that has happened between them seems to hang on both of them. For the longest time, there's only the sound of the waves between them, the soundtrack to their mutual regret and bitterness and anger.

"I need to go."

"Kate, wait-" He still doesn't touch her, but his words pull at her all the same, and she consents to look at him once more. "That time that we were together..." He begins, and her heart skips a beat. "I... it was amazing. It was..."

"Don't-" She warns.

"Kate, it meant something to me! I wanted it to be..." Yet again, he trails off, as though still grappling for the words. But it's late, and they're practically alone, and even if they weren't, Sydney is a sea of strangers, and who would care, really, if they saw them together? The darkness is dangerous, because it hides things that shouldn't - _couldn't _happen again, and all she wants to do is fall into his arms once more. "When I saw you in that classroom after all that time we'd spent together, after... after _everything..._ it nearly killed me. And... and I met with you and I... I couldn't bear to end things, not properly. Because..."

"Don't!" She repeats, except this time, she's summoned all her strength. "_You_ said you wanted to talk, and then you just _left_! You would have run off and... and _what, _pretended like nothing had happened between us? You'd had your fun with the blonde you met at the bookshop, but now it actually interferes with your career, it's time to drop me without so much as a goodbye?!"

"It wasn't..." He swallows. "Kate, that's not-"

" Do you know how much it hurts to see you every day?" She wishes that her words were stronger. She hates the way her voice is breaking. And, hell, she needs him to say something, _anything. _She just has no idea what.

The silence seems to stretch between them for the longest time. And this time, she's the one to leave first. "I'm going to bed."

* * *

She slips, unseen, back into the room, still cloaked under the cover of darkness, and quickly sheds her jacket and thongs for bed. Sleep doesn't come for a long time, and when it does, she's haunted once again by the memories of before.

* * *

Swimming, at least, is easier than running, and the nausea tablets that Dr Grey had given her are at least keeping the nausea at bay. If only they would help her with her fatigue. Lately, she has had to skip lunch in favour of a quick nap before afternoon classes, and even then she feels as though her brain is full of fog. But this... this is something she doesn't need to think about. She knows how to swim, has been able to for decades, and she focuses everything on propelling herself faster and faster through the water.

"Going for a world record, are we Princess? Or just a sweet sponsorship deal?" Boxer catcalls from the side of the pool when she's reached the end and rested her head, panting, against the edge. He's grinning his cheeky smile, dangling his feet lazily into the water, sunglasses attached firmly to his face. "You looked like you were racing for a passionfruit mojito!" Deciding not to dignify it with a response, she instead sends a handful of water splashing right into his face. He splutters in a way that Kate finds extremely satisfying, and she grins. "Speaking of passionfruit mojitos," Boxer continues, seemingly unphased by the water dripping down him, "We're going out to the bar tonight. You're welcome to come. Just _try_ not to get kicked out this time!"

"One time, Boxer! It was one time! And I still maintain I didn't drink that much. I just hadn't eaten and..." Kate catches sight of the smirk across his face. "Oh, why do I bother?"

"You totally freaked out the barman trying to order... what was it... your sixth **_ma-hee-o_**? '_I'm sorry, you want the heater on?!'_" The hazy memory of that too-drunk-to-fully-remember night still sends her flush with embarrassment, but she tries not to show it.

"Just remember, I still have those baby photos your sister sent me." She warns, before slipping underneath the water once more. Truth be told, none of the photos were that bad, but... well, Boxer didn't need to know that. When she emerges, hair slick against her back, it's to Boxer still smiling that same smug smile that always seems to be attached to his face.

"Okay, I respect the blackmail. Truce. So, you coming tonight?" He holds a hand out to hoist her from the pool, but she ignores it, pulling herself up the ladder instead and scooping up her towel.

"Can't. Sorry." She apologises, patting her face dry.

"Intrigue!" He leans closer. "Where ya going?"

"None of your damn business." She laughs, moving to collect the rest of her stuff.

"Ooh, Princess is on a hot date with her Prince Charming." Boxer teases, patting her on the back. "Shame. I'll miss you, kid." He makes a finger-gun salute in her direction, already walking away. "Remember, if you can't be good, be careful."

She wraps her towel tighter around herself, smile slipping from her face. "Yeah." She murmurs softly to herself. "I tried that."

* * *

The moment the door is opened, Elle Olinsky begins with her usual exasperation. "Kate! How many times do I have to tell you, you don't need to knock!" Mrs O shakes her long grey hair from her eyes and tugs off her rubber dishwashing gloves, holding the door so that Kate can enter. Kate obliges, dropping her bag to the ground where a large jumble of shoes sit, and follows Mrs O into the kitchen, where the older woman is already rattling off the menu. "Cake? Biscuits? Slice? Or coffee? Goodness me, Darling! You're looking very thin." She takes Kate's hands in each of her own and holds them out, so that she can get a better look at Kate. Kate feels herself turned this way and that under Mrs O's penetrating stare. "What are they feeding you at that blasted school?"

"Nothing but the best, Mrs O." Kate smiles back. Truth be told, she still hasn't been able to stomach much but plain toast and vegemite, but she's not about to tell Mrs O that. Of course, the woman has always been able to tell when Kate is lying, but she seems to decide against questioning Kate further, leaving the subject with a dry hum.

"And how are your studies? Rowan tells me every time he sees you, you've got your head in your notes." She moves back into the kitchen and begins bustling around with plates and cups. "And I've told you a thousand times to call me Elle."

"And I've told _you _I thousand times that I've called you Mrs O since I was twelve years old. It's too weird to change now." She settles herself on one of the kitchen benches and rests her chin on her hand. "And Watson's Bay is good. Some classes more interesting than others, but I'm learning lots. Too much, sometimes. Most days I feel as though my brain is fried."

"Rowan's classes sound like an absolute snooze-fest to me." She winks as she slides over a slice of ginger cake and two ANZAC biscuits on a plate. "But don't tell him I've told you that."

"No!" Kate shakes her head, and despite her initial hesitation, she finds that the ginger cake is appealing to her. "Mr O's classes are great. I mean, it's the same sort of stuff he's been talking about for years, but it's nice. But we have this other teacher and he makes everything sound as dry as if he was chatting about drainpipes. Besides, it's not as if I can walk right in to one of Commander Olinsky's lectures and declare them boring."

Elle's eyes twinkle as she settles herself opposite Kate, and her stare seems to x-ray Kate. "What's going on, Hon?"

Of course, Kate had known the inquisition was coming. She'd just hoped they'd have gotten through dinner first. Swallowing her mouthful of food, she says, "I... I just wanted to see you."

"You always were a terrible liar." Elle dismisses, leaning forwards slightly. "I've been telling Rowan to invite you to dinner for weeks, and you've been too busy."

"I have been busy." Kate defends. "Between classes and keeping fit on all the junk food Libby keeps buying..." Once again, Mrs O's eyes seem to x-ray her, but she forces herself to look as honest as possible. "Ah, when's Mr O back?"

"Not til after ten at least, I expect." She catches Kate's eyes, and her lip curls. "Sorry. 2200 hours." She corrects. "One of the fancy higher-ups is in town, and he's on the wine and dine committee. So it's just you and me, Treasure. Thought we could have a bit of a girl's night. _And _I made your favourite. That, and a movie with a dishy looking actor should set us up nicely for the evening, don't you think?"

* * *

Kate's not stupid, of course. Neither is Elle Olinsky, and Kate knows it's only a matter of time before Mrs O grows tired of the movie they are watching and begins to question Kate once more.

She'd always been able to see through Kate, right from the start, when Mr and Mrs O had been nothing more than the neighbours Kate's mother had sent her to whenever she had needed a can of soup or a couple of potatoes.

At the beginning, Kate had been terrified of the inquisitive older couple, with the husband who went away for long periods of time and would come back in smart white uniforms. Elle Olinsky had seen right through Kate's assurances that all she needed was two potatoes so her Mum could finish the casserole she was making, and they would pay her back as soon as they next went to the shops. Truth be told, there was never any casserole, nor any paying back, and more often than not the food that Kate would manage to borrow - beg, more like it - was the only food she would eat all day.

But the Olinsky's would never refuse. In fact, more often than not Kate would find an extra few potatoes stuffed into the bag, or else find frozen meals delivered mysteriously and anonymously to her door. And the Olinsky's house had become a second home. Or rather, the home she'd never had. Rowan Olinsky was the one to teach her about the sea, about the Navy and the wonders of adventure and travel. And Elle had been the one to teach her to try, to strive.

"Darling, what's going on?" A simple question, really. But one that makes it extremely clear that Mrs O has definitely not seen through her assurances that she was fine.

Kate tugs at a thread in the crocheted blanket, averting her gaze, as though if Mrs O made eye contact, she would discover the truth about everything, and tries half-heartedly to lie. "Nothing."

"Oh, come on!" Mrs O drums a hand impatiently against her water glass. "Just weeks ago, you were over the moon about Watson's Bay. You were out with friends and enjoying your subjects, not to mention telling me you met the most perfect guy at a bookstore. You were over the moon, hon. I hadn't seen you that happy in years. And now you're sitting here as glum as anything..." She regrets telling her anything about Mike Flynn. But she'd been overjoyed after her first meeting with him, full of buoyant optimism about the funny, gorgeous and kind man she'd just met, and... well, she'd barely been able to keep the grin from her face. "Kate!" Mrs O presses.

"Look, it ended, okay?" There's a bite to her tone she hadn't planned on. A moment later, she feels herself flush with embarrassment and regret.

"Yeah." Mrs O murmurs calmly. "I figured that. What I don't understand is _why._"

She doesn't want to talk about this. _Nothing _about her wants to even think about him, but Elle has never been one to let go. "Look, he wasn't who I thought he was."

"You always were an evasive little whatsit..." Mrs O mutters under her breath. "Sweetheart, I just... I'm worried. You're losing weight. You've got bags under your eyes. You look exhausted-"

"Look, it's fine. I'm fine." She wonders if she's ever been _less _fine. "Can we just... just forget about it? He's not worth... I don't want to think..." But she can't figure out exactly what she means.

Mrs O sets her glass down gently, frowning. "Kate, he... he didn't hurt you?"

Yes, he had hurt her. But Mrs O is thinking about broken bones and split lips kind of hurt. The kind that people can see and understand, the kind that heals over time. Not this type of hurt. "No!" She explodes, before she can help herself. "Well... not like you're thinking." She hastens to add. "Look, I don't know. It had to end. Neither of us said we were in the Navy and-" But she freezes suddenly. "I mean, _I_ never said-"

"He's in the Navy?" Mrs O's voice is suddenly sharp, and the concern across her face seems to double. "Kate..."

Kate looks in terror at the aghast look on the older woman's face, and leaps from her chair. The crocheted blanket falls from her lap, but Kate hardly notices. "You can't say anything to Mr O."

"Kate, it's okay." But Kate is already panicking, because _this..._ this is the thing that will ruin her, and Mrs O is looking at her as though she's just confessed to murder, and she's only bloody twenty-three and pregnant and _how is this her life? _"You know Rowan wouldn't tell on you-"

Kate shakes her head. "No. No, he'd have to. It's fraternisation, okay? Regardless of whether we knew. And... and it's over, anyway."

"But-"

"No! Promise me, Elle. Please!" And for a moment, she's seventeen, begging for another secret to be kept. "Please."

Please, because she them being apart was the price Mike had chosen to save both their careers. Please, because she can't let this pain be in vain.

The ticking of the clock has never seemed so loud. In the distance, a cricket chirps. If Mr O was here, he'd be hunting it down. He'd always hated the sound.

"Okay. I'm not going to say anything. But... darling, that was the happiest I've seen you in years. You can't tell me you're okay with never seeing him again." She hesitates for a moment, eyes narrowed. Then realisation seems to dawn. "Oh, sweetheart. You _have_ seen him again, haven't you?"


	4. Chapter 4

Kate awakens to someone dragging a blanket over her, and for a moment she is so relaxed, so secure, that she feels herself drifting back to sleep. Her limbs are heavy, eyelids drooping, and wherever she is lying is just... so... comfortable.

But it's never been that easy for her to sleep, and even as she closes her eyes once more, she feels her brain kick back into gear. Sleepily, she shifts, and recognises her surroundings as the Olinsky's lounge room, illuminated only by the soft orange glow of the lamp beside her. The movie that she and Mrs O had been watching has, judging by the now-still TV, long since finished playing, and the lamplight has been dimmed.

"It's okay, Lamb. Go back to sleep." Mrs O murmurs, and Kate feels a hand brush against her forehead, smoothing her hair. But she's awake now, brain churning around, and, terribly, predictably, the chant of _pregnant, pregnant, pregnant _begins once more in her head.

"No. 'M up." She mumbles, pushing herself into a sitting position. Mrs O has changed out of her clothes and is now wrapped in a soft pink dressing gown, her face clean of its usual powder, and she can _just _catch a whiff of Mrs O's usual rose-scented soap. Blearily, Kate sits up. The blanket falls from her shoulders, pooling in her lap, and she rubs a her eyes, trying desperately to focus through the fog of tiredness. "How long was I asleep?"

Mrs O tuts at Kate's refusal to sleep, but doesn't look surprised. She perches on the edge of the armchair, glancing at the clock. "Oh, you fell asleep about an hour and a half ago."

"Sorry." Kate apologises automatically, glancing at her own watch. 2253 hours.

"Don't apologise. You obviously needed it." Her apology is waved away with a hand. "Now, why don't you go and lay down in the spare room? There's a fresh toothbrush in the drawer, and you know where the towels are."

"No. I... I really need to get back." She inwardly curses at herself for falling asleep; she'd meant to get back earlier, take advantage of Libby being at her parents' this weekend and use the solitude to her advantage, and at least do _something _vague in regards to the three essays that are due the following week, and her growing pile of laundry, not to mention the fact that she hasn't changed the sheets of her bed in over a week, and she needs to polish her shoes, and-

"Just stay." Mrs O protests, her own fingers now absentmindedly securing her long grey hair into a single plait. "Rowan can drop you back at base tomorrow. He's got to go in to collect some things anyway." Mrs O frowns disapprovingly as Kate shakes her head and begins gathering her stuff. "You know I don't like you walking this late at night." She adds, a slight edge to her tone. "You never know who's wandering around at this time." She gestures towards the window, as though an axe murderer will appear on the otherside to prove her point. In spite of herself, Kate follows her gaze, but the window shows nothing but the reflection of the living room.

Kate barely suppresses the eye-roll at the overprotective tone, because she knows that Mrs O is only trying to help. All the same, it's a conversation they've been having for years, and she tries her best to appease the older woman. "Look, O, it's barely eleven. I'll be able to get the late bus. Well-lit, lots of people..." She trails off, making to fold the blanket that Mrs O had been attempting to cover her with. "It's fine."

Mrs O says nothing to betray her feelings towards the plan, instead moving herself forwards and taking the blanket from Kate. She refolds it crisply with a domestic ease that Kate has never possessed. "I'll drive you, then." She announces, making her way into the kitchen once more.

"No, I..." Kate falters though, unable to think of an excuse that will satisfy Mrs O. The truth is that the comforting and warm surroundings are getting overwhelming, and she's craving fresh air. Just like when she'd been a child afraid that the Olinsky's would find out just how much of Kate's life with her mother was fabricated, so too now was she terrified that, just by being in her presence for too long, Elle will discover the current secret growing inside of her. "Please, I'll be fine. And I'll call when I get back."

"I'm dropping you at the bus stop then." Mrs O shakes her head with a sort of weary resignation, pointing a bony finger in Kate's direction. "And don't even _think_ about arguing with me, Young Lady!" She begins bustling about in the kitchen once more. "_And _I'm packing you some extra ginger cake, and some oatmeal cookies for the next few days. Heaven knows what they're feeding you at that blasted school, but it's sure as sugar not agreeing with you. You're skin and bones. _And _I expect you to dinner next Wednesday. It's an old lady's birthday and I'd very much like your company."

"Thanks." Kate mutters, moving back towards the kitchen and leaning against the benchtop as Mrs O begins gathering the various food packages together. Of course, she knows that Mrs O isn't really mad, that she has _never _seen her mad. Sure enough, as Kate catches her gaze, there's a small smile playing on the older woman's face. "I mean it."

* * *

Mrs O disappears back into her bedroom to change, waving away Kate's insistence that she is _fine _to walk the two blocks to the bus stop ("I thought I told you not to argue, Katie!") and, when that fails, that she can just keep her pyjamas on ("Wear my pyjamas? Of _course _not! Everyone would think I'd gone senile!"), and Kate finds herself alone in the front room, bag on her shoulder. Of course, this house wasn't the one that she had frequented as a child. The Olinsky's had moved two years beforehand, but while the framework of the house was somewhat new, the objects in them were greatly familiar.

Mrs O's ceramic angels and woodland creatures line the shelves, all lovingly dusted and clean. Across the squashy armchairs are some of Mrs O's crocheted blankets, and across the back wall, heavy shelves are laden with dozens of books. Moving forwards, Kate runs a finger down the spine of a familiar tale, _A Little Princess, _and smiles softly as she remembers Mrs O reading it to her when she was younger.

"You always loved your books." Mrs O murmurs as she reappears, now dressed in a neat blouse and pants, despite the lateness of the hour. She moves closer so that she can catch the name of the book and smiles softly. "I remember you reading that. Your eyes flicked so fast across the pages, they were almost blurred. By the time you were thirteen, I reckon you'd finished at least half of my collection."

"Yeah, well. Being in a home..." But she trails off, fidgeting uncomfortably. She can't help it. Even though Mrs O is now fully aware of the neglect that Kate had suffered as a child, it still makes her feel awkward to talk about. It's almost as if the subject is still taboo. For a moment, she teeters on the edge of speech, wondering what she can possibly say. She gives an awkward laugh, then says, "I don't think Donna even knew how to read. She didn't care about books or... or me."

"Kate-" Mrs O begins, in that same sad, regretful way she always gets when they speak about Kate's mother. But Kate is already shaking her head, wanting desperately to stuff the words back into her. To blame it on the lateness of the hour, or her hormones, or... or _something. _

"No, it's... it's fine." She hastens to add, shaking her head. "It's... I had you and Mr O, didn't I?"

"Kate-" Mrs O tries again.

"Honestly, it's-"

"She called." Mrs O's voice rises above Kate's, silencing any further words. And what else is there to say, really? Nothing. But the world is suddenly spinning, and Kate's chest is tightening and...

"She's getting out?" Kate's throat is suddenly dry, her whole being on edge.

"Not... not yet." Mrs O says. She holds a hand out, as though to grip Kate's arm, but Kate steps backwards, and the limb falls lamely back to her side. Swallowing, Mrs O continues. "I... she's been going through her program really well. And now she's able to have visitors and... I'm sure she'd like to see you."

"Oh yeah?" It's hard to keep the bite from her tone. "Did she actually ask about me?"

Mrs O turns and fussily straightens one of her many porcelain figurines. "She said she's tried to call-"

"Well, she hasn't."

The bitterness in her words suprises even Kate. For a moment, Mrs O seems to grapple with what else to say. Then, her voice soft, she murmurs, "Kate, she loves you."

_Love_.

She turns the word over in her head. But _love _was never a word that came to mind when she thought of Donna McGregor. Nothing resembling love had ever been there in the house she had shared with her mother. Love wasn't abandonment, wasn't leaving on the eve of your only daughter's seventeenth birthday to follow some guy to the other side of the country. Love wasn't what had come before either, the thousands of sharp words cutting like blades at Kate's heart, the hissed assertions that Kate was the root of everything bad in Donna's life.

Kate grapples with the straps of her bag, hoisting it up over her shoulder once more. "I can walk to the bus stop." She murmurs.

"Kate!" Mrs O's tone is desperate now, and this time she does reach out and touch Kate's arm. "Darling, I... I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for days now, but it's never been the right time. But... she's your mother and I... I thought you deserved the chance to speak to her, to... to get some closure and maybe be able to heal. She's... she seems to be really trying, Kate."

"Why do you always stand up for her?" Kate demands of the older woman, and even though anger is coursing through her, she feels the tears splash down her face. "Why do you pay to put her through rehab? Why do you take her calls and... and pass on messages she's too cowardly to do herself? Why are you always on her side?"

She's never seen Mrs O look so old before. When she does speak, her voice is quiet. "Rowan and I always wanted children. For years and years we tried, but..." She gives a sad smile. "I thought that was it for us. That we would never have children. But then, the universe gave us you. I don't think of you as anything less than our daughter, Kate. So... why do I help her? I... I do it for you."

For the longest time, Kate and Elle stare at each other. Then Kate shakes her head. "I just always wished she loved me as much as you two did." She admits, and she can't shake how utterly childish the confession sounds, but at the same time, she needs Mrs O to know. "You two were my parents. She... she never could be. And I never understood why."

Mrs O heaves a heavy sigh, and as she blinks, a tear falls silently down her own cheek. "It's not right, and it's not fair, Kate. And I don't know why she couldn't step up for you. I guess... I guess some people... being a mother... it's just not in their DNA."

* * *

She lets Mrs O drive her back to base, despite her earlier protests, and although the car trip is mostly silent, save for the ticking of the blinkers, or the wipers dutifully swiping at the smattering of raindrops against the windshield, Kate finds it's not at all constricting.

It's not as though it's the first time she's considered Mrs O as more of a mother than Donna, really. But to have her say it aloud, to have tangible evidence that Elle Olinsky thought her just as much her flesh and blood had made her feel a little less alone.

And the trip back to base both stretches endlessly and flies by, and all the while, Kate sits, hands wrapped tight around her middle, trying desperately to find the words to confess... everything.

That she was still, despite all her best efforts and all the heartache between them, completely in love with Mike Flynn.

That she was having his baby.

Or that she was maybe not.

That she's so desperately, desperately tired of being on her own.

That she can't fathom raising a child whose only branch on the family tree would be Kate.

How there are so many words and feelings welling up inside of her, and hormones are sending her emotions in a spin.

But she can't.

So she sits in silence instead.

* * *

She stays in her dorm all Saturday and most of Sunday. With Libby gone, she forces herself relentlessly through each point on her _to-do _list, refusing to allow her mind to drift into the million _what-ifs. _By Saturday night, she's finally finished her homework, and she sets aside Sunday for some serious cleaning. By the time that Libby crashes unceremoniously through the door at 1745 hours on Sunday, Kate is sitting exhausted, her nostrils burning of boot polish, dutifully folding her washing.

"Oh, Babe, don't tell me this is what you've done all weekend." Is Libby's greeting, as she drops her bag atop her (freshly made - Kate couldn't have one side of the room cleaner than the other) bed and folds her arms across her chest. When Kate says nothing to defend herself, Libby shakes her head. She turns to her top drawer and, with a crinkling of plastic, withdraws a bag of salt and vinegar chips. "Okay, spill. What's troubling you?"

"What?" Kate frowns, batting the bag away. "Nothing's-"

"You obsessively clean when you're freaking out." Libby raises an eyebrow in her direction. Kate curses and unfurls a t-shirt, making another attempt to fold it neater. But she can never get them like Mrs O does and- "Kate!" Libby pokes her in the elbow. "Have you even left the room?"

"Yes." Kate spits defensively in Libby's direction, leaving out that she had only ducked out to use the laundry, study notes in front of her nose the entire time. "How were your parents?"

"Oh no, we're not changing the subject. You need some sun." Libby seizes Kate's hand and pulls her to her feet.

"But-"

Libby shakes her head. "Oh no. Katie Eve McGregor, you have exactly two minutes to get changed." She gestures to the bathroom door. "We're going out."

* * *

"Lib, I'm not in the mood-"

"Honestly, you keep whinging and I might just push you in front of a bus." Libby wags a finger in Kate's direction, eyes twinkling. Catching Kate's less-than-enthusiastic response, she adds, "I promise I am not taking you anywhere crazy. Just a quiet dinner together. And a bit of fresh air along the way."

Of course, Kate can't deny that the weak evening sunshine upon her is quite pleasant. She hadn't realised _just _how wound up she'd gotten but, like always, Libby had pulled her from it. "I'm sorry, Lib." She murmurs, shoulders relaxing as they make their way along the clifftop pathway. "I just had so much to do and..." But she trails off, feeling lame.

"I should have made you come with me." Libby looks across at Kate. "I swear, half the time you only turn out the light because I insist. I just... I don't want you to burn out, okay? You need to take a break every once in a while. And you _certainly _need to eat." She leans across and pokes a finger into Kate's side.

"Yeah, okay." Kate turns her face to the wind so that it blows her hair over her shoulders, before securing it with a hair-tie. "I still need to master that whole _relaxing _thing. I get it."

They walk in a comfortable silence into the main part of town, heading, through some sort of mutual understanding, towards their usual sandwich bar. It isn't until they've ordered their food and settled themselves at a picnic table, that Libby speaks again. "You know... if there's something else bothering you, you... you can tell me, right? I mean... I know I nag and I'm opinionated and everything but... but I don't know. Lately things just feel... different."

She forces herself to keep eating. To act natural, even though her whole body is tense once more. Kate takes her time chewing and swallowing her bite of food before turning to Libby. "I... I..." But the words stick in her throat like glue, and she finds she can't bring herself to voice them. To say it aloud would make the situation totally and completely real, and she can't bear to see the look of shock and disappointment on Libby's face.

"When you're ready." Libby adds, and Kate wonders, suddenly paranoid, whether Libby already knows. But then, "We can get a bottle of wine and talk if you want?"

Wine. Wine.

Libby has no idea.

And so Kate lies, wondering _when _she'd gotten so damned good at it. "It's... it's just school, Lib." She murmurs, lying through her teeth. "I'll... I'll figure it out."

* * *

She really hates that bloody poster. It draws her eye every time she enters the room, that damned hideous drawing of a baby in the womb. She loathes everything about it, from the tiny closed eyes to the cords attaching it to its mother. She hates it, because it doesn't feel like a baby inside of her. Just a parasite, a time-bomb, doing nothing but drain her of energy and self-worth.

She has to force herself to look away, wishing Dr Grey wouldn't take so long reviewing her file. After what feels like the longest time, Dr Grey finally speaks. "So, Kate. How have you been on the promethazine? Have you found it's helped your nausea?" Dr Grey looks as calm and inquisitive as ever, still smiling pleasantly. She's a stark contrast to how Kate feels.

"Uh. I'm okay." She lies, fidgeting with the clasp of her bag. She wonders vaguely whether she's ever been _less _fine, because she's having her teacher's baby, her mother is supposedly getting out of rehab soon and wanting to reconnect and her life as she knows it is in jeopardy. But she knows that Dr Grey is not after any of that. So she shrugs instead and murmurs, "Tired."

"And your sleep?" Dr Grey prompts. "Are you finding you are getting more rest?"

"I need to get rid of it." She blurts the words before she can stop herself, before she can stuff them back, or really digest what it is that those words mean. But, God, she can't stand being here and chatting idly about sleep patterns when all she is feeling is fear. "I..." She feels her hands shaking.

Dr Grey bows her head. She doesn't look surprised, and Kate wonders whether _anything _would ever cause this woman shock. "We can discuss termination if that is what you would like, Kate-"

"No!" She pushes herself from her chair, because she can't just _sit _there anymore and do nothing. And, hell, she knows pacing is doing next to nothing to change her situation, but even simply moving gives the illusion of progress, so she moves across the office and back in tight, dizzying steps. "I don't want to discuss anything! I don't want to turn this over in my head anymore. I just... I just want it gone. I don't want this decision in my life."

She hates this, hates everything. There are tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and she's too damn young. "Well, Kate, I can certainly give you a referral. There will be mandatory counseling though, and I must say that unless a doctor is sure it's your decision, no one will be able to do anything." She leans forward slightly, and Kate turns away, resuming her pacing. "Kate, I want to stress again that you would not be alone. There are many resources available to support you in whatever decision you want to make-"

But that's just it. She doesn't want to make the decision. Murderer. Mother. Both words sound equally as terrifying to her. She turns to Dr Grey, a humourless laugh bubbling from her throat. "I mean it's ridiculous to even _consider _it, right? Being a mother?" One hand absentmindedly frees her hair, tugging on a strand. "I mean, I was on the pill! I was _safe_! Or at least, I was supposed to be! I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this! This was never even supposed to have been anything I'd have to worry about!"

Dr Grey holds out the box of tissues before Kate has even realised she is crying. And, dammit, she's so sick of crying. Sick if feeling tired and keeping secrets and being pregnant and sick of seeing Mike every day. She wants Dr Grey to say something, to agree that her having a child is ridiculous, or to give her the stupid referral so that she can just get it over with. But the doctor says nothing, and Kate feels the weeks of fear spill from her.

"If I have a kid now, _this _kid, _his _kid, then that's it. Everything I've worked for over the last six years is gone. No Chief of Navy. Hell, no bloody Lieutenant rank. And if they find out that the kid is his then his career is screwed too, even if neither of us knew. And I won't do that to him. So if I have a kid, then I _am _alone. And you can talk about _support groups _and... and fucking mothers' groups but in the end, it's me. It'll be _me _putting my life on hold. _Me _up all night. _Me _that gets stared at and pointed at. And then I'll have to find a job, and... and what the hell would I even do? I pick some dead-end job to feed the kid and turn out just like my mother, and if I'm lucky, my kid doesn't hate me when they grow up." Kate drags her fingernails along the fabric of her jeans. "Please, I need you to tell me what to do."

"I can't, Kate." Dr Grey whispers. "It has to come from you. You alone know what you want. _You_ know whether you're capable of this. _You_ know if you're ready."

Kate peers once again at the poster of the baby in the womb, then at her own waist, and finds herself repeating the words Mrs O had spoken. "Some people... being a mother just isn't in their DNA."

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Just wanted to stress that I am a storyteller. This is a story, not a reflection of my own beliefs. I believe that everyone is entitled to a choice with what they do to their bodies. The term 'murderer' is not one that I would use in this situation, however, simply the headspace I believe that Kate would be in at that point. I don't wish anyone to take offense to what is intended to be fiction. _

_Thank you to everyone who is taking the time to read this little story. It really means a lot :) _


	5. Chapter 5

"Naked Admiral on a fucking pogo stick!" Libby curses in exasperation as she tears her fourth piece of paper from her exercise book and crumples it, sending it whizzing across the room in the vague direction of the bin. It narrowly misses Kate's left ear and bounces off the wall behind her before coming to a stop on top of Kate's notes.

"Oi!" Kate calls out, lobbing the paper back blindly in Libby's direction. Kate's aim is truer, and it hits Libby squarely in the chest. "Why are you attacking me? Or... putting those..." She tips her head slightly, "...admittedly inventive but completely weird and disturbing images in my head?"

"Shit! Sorry, _sorry_!" Libby throws her hands in the air, very nearly upturning her can of energy drink in the process. She just manages to catch it, and swipes with a sleeve at the few droplets that splatter her papers. "Ceasefire, mate. I was aiming for the bin."

"Good thing we weren't at the gun range then." Kate teases, shifting in her spot on her bed and absentmindedly swatting at a mosquito. "And I am so over these damned mosquitos!"

"I forget how British you are sometimes." Libby murmurs, dropping her pen in favour of tugging at her hair and winding it into a loose bun.

Kate lets out a squawk of protest. "W- _how _is that British, exactly?"

Libby's smile widens as she puts on an exaggerated Australian accent. "Nah, mate! They're fuckin' mozzies, hey! None 'a this _mos-qui-to-" _She stretches the word out in a truly terrible attempt at a British accent "-B.S."

"You have had way too much caffeine." Kate observes, rolling her eyes and half-heartedly turning back to her notes. The truth was that, even before Libby's less-than-dignified interruption, Kate's mind was mush, her mind deafened by the ever-present tick-tick-ticking of what she was trying to convince herself was the right thing to do.

"And you have had not even close to the vicinity of enough." Libby counters, pulling Kate from her thoughts once more. Kate looks up in time to see Libby holding out her half-can of _V. _"Get on my level, bitch! It's no fun being in Crazy-Town all by yourself." Libby is bouncing in her chair like a toddler on a sugar rush, and Kate knows it's only a matter of time before Libby declares that the four walls around them are too small. Already, she is tapping her feet, and after one more disgusted glance at her textbook, she pushes herself to her feet. Taking a running leap, Libby launches herself onto Kate's bed. Kate's books and pens go flying, but she can't help but laugh as Libby continues to scatter her possessions. When Libby has apparently cleared enough space, she flops down onto her back and states at the ceiling, huffing a strand of hair from her face. "I vote we go out. Call Boxer and Tommo and Jules and Ri and... and whoever else wants to come. It is too nice a night to spend here."

"Mock exams are next week." Kate points out, mimicking Libby's position on the bed. "_You _were the one that said you needed to stay in and study."

"Was I? Interesting." Libby taps a finger against her lips for a moment, before grinning wickedly. "Guess that means I can decree the opposite."

* * *

The cool air whips at their faces as the cheerful group make their way inside the hotel and towards the bar. Despite the late notice, Libby had managed to convince seven other people to join them - Boxer and Tommo of course, as well as Rhiannan Exley, who had also been in basic training with them, her roommate Julie Finch, and three others that hung around Boxer - Dingo, Kidd and Turps.

"See, isn't this fun?" Libby squeezes Kate's arm for a moment, smiling at Kate through her loose locks. "Better than staying in our room and banging our heads against our textbooks?"

"We'll regret it tomorrow." Kate warns, but she can't keep the smile from her face as Boxer begins dancing to the music playing through the stereo, singing loudly and offkey, hand held as though clutching an invisible microphone and crooning in the direction of Tommo.

Libby looks unconcerned, shrugging lightly. "Eh, we've got all of tomorrow to study. So, what'll it be?" Libby extends an arm and takes the drinks menu from Tommo's hands, ignoring his cry of protest. Boxer takes the opportunity to sieze both of Tommo's now-free hands and attempt to twirl him. "Ooh, they have cocktails!" Libby nibbles absently at a crimson-painted lip, eyes scanning the names. "What are you going to drink? Strawberry Daiquiri?"

Kate hates how she forgets. How, for a moment, she's about to order some sort of fruity cocktail and the next...

_Baby. _

_Pregnant. _

"Hellooooo. Earth to Kate?" Libby waves a hand in front of Kate's face. "Hey? Don't tell me all that information you're absorbing about... tides and rules of engagement has pushed away your basic function to speak?"

"Ah..." Kate forces herself to act normal. "No. Ah... just... just a coke for me please. I... I need to eat something first."

* * *

"You call _that _a bad holiday?" Rhiannan chimes in an hour later, swirling her straw around her third drink, voice raised slightly to be heard over the music and the chattering of the Saturday Night revelers around her. Despite her earlier unease, Kate finds that sitting and chatting with her friends is exactly what she needs, and even with all the uncertainty flooding her mind, she feels... well, almost normal. "My parents actually forgot about me. We went out on an island cruise, and six-year-old me spent a delightful twenty minutes completely alone before my parents realised they were missing their only daughter and had the boat turned around."

There's a mixture of laughter and sympathetic groans from the group at Rhiannan's story, all except for Boxer, who shakes his head. "Okay, I concede that is bad, but not the worst. I can top that in three words." He waits dramatically until his audience has quietened before continuing. "Contiki. Gastro. Zip-Lining."

They dissolve into laughter once more, aside from Tommo, who is frowning. "Isn't 'zip lining' two words?"

"Really?" Libby tosses her head in amusement. "_That's_ what troubles you the most?"

"Personally," Boxer begins, in a voice that might just be about to announce a treaty on world peace, waiting once more for silence before continuing. "I would hyphenate 'zip-lining'. _But _each to their own, I suppose." He drains the last of his beer and pushes himself to his feet. "Anyway, another round?" He looks around at them all, and Kate realises too late that she is the only one with an empty glass. "Princess, what's your poison?"

"Oh..." Kate rises as well, tugging at her necklace. "It's okay. I'll buy my own."

"Nonsense! I insist. Can't have royalty dying of thirst in front of me." He leans forward to peer more closely at her empty glass. "What were you drinking? Rum and Coke?" Kate feels her heart leap in her chest. Boxer has always been able to attract attention, and now everyone's eyes are on her. "Come on! Let me buy you one drink, at least. You're gonna top the bloody year. Gotta get some sort of alcoholic beverage for that!" He straightens up and stretches, looking cocky. "We get you drunk enough and we might actually be able to have an equally matched intellectual conversation."

She forces herself to remain calm and keep casual. Forcing a smile she's not really feeling, she shakes her head and takes her seat once more. "No, I'd say I'm definitely safer getting my own. Knowing you, you'd slip me pure alcohol or something. But here..." Kate fishes in her wallet for a moment before sliding a fifty dollar note across the bar towards them. "Next rounds on me. Seeing as, you know, I'll be earning the megabucks and you'll probably still be on some tugboat in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh, piss off!" Boxer laughs, poking her lightly in the arm. He walks around the table towards her, that cocky grin firmly attached, but despite the attention on her, Kate feels relieved that, at least, her classmates are focused on the banter between them, rather than the fact that Kate still isn't drinking. "You changing careers, darling? Finding something else a pretty girl like you can make money? Cos I'd be interested." He gives an exaggerated wave in the direction of Kate's chest. Not that she was in any way dressed provocatively.

Kate laughs, folding her arms across her chest. As long as they were joking around, she might _just _keep her lack of drinking unnoticed. "So you're saying the only way you could get a girl like me is if you're paying?" She presses, raising an eyebrow.

Boxer clicks his tongue. "You wound me, McGregor."

"If only I had a real weapon." Kate grins. "Still, I'm sure there's some sort of Naval calendar you could express your skills in. Definitely be a better model than student."

"You offering to pose naked with me, Darlin'?"

"Excuse me!" Another familiar voice cuts across the groups' jeering, and they all fall silent as Mike storms over. And, hell, Kate hadn't even seen him as they'd entered, but he's there now, stony-faced and glaring at Boxer as though about to deck him. Unconsciously, Kate pushes herself to her feet and takes a few stunned steps backwards. "I think you owe McGregor an apology, don't you?"

Everyone at the table stills. Rhiannan makes half a movement, as though about to hide her drink, like a teenager from a parent. A moment later, however, she seems to realise that Mike isn't angry about their drinking. Boxer looks in bewilderment between Kate and Mike. "Uh, Sir, we were just joking around. I meant nothing by it."

Mike seems less than placated. "Your blatant sexism and disrespect towards your female coworkers in a public venue-"

"Sir, it's just a joke." Kate cuts across him, trying to defuse the situation. "This is how we always talk." She gestures in Boxer's direction, and adds a half-hearted jibe for Boxer's benefit. "And compared to some of the things I've thrown at him, his insults were pretty juve-"

"Sub-Lieutenant McGregor, are you arguing with me?" Mike interjects furiously, and the smile falls from Kate's face as suddenly as if he'd slapped her. None of their table now. Rhiannan is slowly edging her seat backwards, as though about to run away, and Libby is drumming anxiously on the table.

It feels as though everyone in the bar has fallen silent. Even the music seems to have stopped playing, and she can feel many collective gazes flickering between herself, Boxer and Mike. But unlike everyone else in the room, Kate isn't shocked. No. She's pissed off. Gritting her teeth, she takes a step closer to him, refusing to drop her gaze. "No, _Sir. _I'm merely stating that there is no need to defend me against a mutually harmless exchanging of teasing."

Kate just sees Libby mouth _what the fuck _behind Mike, while Boxer continues to look completely shell shocked. Mike, however, looks completely unmoved. Through gritted teeth, he gestures towards the door. "A word outside, McGregor."

She wants to scream at him that he has no right to order her outside, to tear her away from her friends. But the other part of her wants... _needs_ him to know that she and Boxer are just friends and...

And she can't afford to go down that path of _why _it's so important Mike knows that. She's not sure if she's more pissed off with herself or Mike as she stands up straighter.

"Fine. _Sir_!" Kate balls her hands into fists as she makes her way around the table, stopping only to squeeze Boxer's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's fine." She assures him, trying for a reassuring smile, although judging by his expression, she's not doing the best job at it. "Fine." She repeats, as Libby opens her mouth once more. "Just... just buy the damn drinks and I'll be back in a sec."

The cool air does nothing to sooth the rage still flowing through her. After all, this was a weekend, after hours. It was bad enough that she had to see him every single day, to hold onto the pain and sense of loss she had felt every time she caught him looking at her. But now he was attacking her friends, and stepping into her life when he had no right. In that moment, she wants nothing more than to attack, to make him feel some _semblance _of what she is feeling. And she has to ball her hands into fists and bite her tongue to stop herself from punching him.

She waits until they're well out of earshot of the pub before rounding on him. "What are you doing?!"

Mike throws his hands into the air, gesturing furiously towards the pub. "What am _I _doing? Are you fucking kidding me? Did you hear the stuff he was saying to you?"

The fact that _he _has the nerve to be angry at _her _sends her rage higher still. "We're _mates_! That's just how we talk. He says the same crap to Libby and Rhiannan and Jules and... hell, I've seen him jokingly hump Tommo on at least two occasions. It's _just_ Boxer!"

"So you're okay with him sexually harassing you? And degrading you and comparing you to a cheap whore in front of your peers-"

"Oh, come on! There's a difference between _that_ and harassment!"

"Oh, bullshit!" Mike snaps. He aims a kick at a rock on the concrete, sending it skidding across the road.

"Really?" She shakes her head, spitting hair from her face. "Why is it up to _you_ to decide how I'm spoken to?"

"Why am _I_ the bad guy here?"

"Because out of you and Boxer, _you're _the one pissing me off!" She's shouting now, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"He basically just called you a whore. Excuse me for worrying about the consequences of allowing him to get away with that!"

"He would never hurt me." The unspoken _like you _hangs between them. And, hell, they're both screaming at the top of their lungs at each other, gesticulating wildly, and if anyone else found them like this she knows they'd both have to face the brass.

"You can't fucking know that!" Mike shakes his head. "You..." It seems as though his own anger towards Boxer is beyond words. He flails for a moment, a fist grappling with thin air, as though the words he seeks are physical beings. And then he shakes his head. "If you go around acting like a-" But he stops himself again.

"A _what, _exactly?" Kate challenges, because despite his silence, she knows what he was about to say. Stepping closer, she narrows her eyes. "You think I'm screwing Boxer, do you? You think if he says stuff like that to me, I'll go back to his dorm? A guy jokes about me and that's what gets my rocks off? Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen?"

"That's not what I said." Mike growls through gritted teeth, but there's the tiniest flicker of guilt before he averts his eyes.

"No, but it's what you _meant!" _Kate corrects, stepping closer still to him. And, hell, they're practically on top of each other, and some distant _Princess-Perfect-esque _part of her is screaming that this is insubordination, but she's so fucking furious with him, she finds she doesn't care. "You don't know a thing about me, and you don't know a thing about Boxer!"

"I know guys like him, Kate! I see them pass through the Academy every single year!" He shouts back at her. "Guys who are in it for the power. Guys who just want the gun in their holster and-"

"That is _not _Boxer!" She actually raises her hand, but sense seems to catch her at the last possible moment, she remembers who she is and... and she needs the Navy. Because it might just be the first place she's ever truly belonged. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she forces herself to lower her voice, to try and explain. "Look, our first weekend in town, Libby had her drink spiked and I was... well, I'd had a few already. I was pretty tipsy, but I was trying to get her back to our dorm. We kept stumbling and falling and... and _anyone _could have found us. And then this... this big hulking blonde guy showed up out of nowhere with his mates. They... they could have done _anything_ to us, but they helped me carry Libby home, made sure she was all okay, even held a bucket under her head and helped clean the mud from her feet, and then made doubly sure we were both safe before they left. That was Boxer and Tommo and Dingo. I'd trust those guys with my life."

She looks up at Mike, and although there's a flicker of... _something... _a moment later his face returns to that same stony expression, seemingly unmoved by her story. Shaking her head, Kate takes a step back. "Doesn't matter what I say, anyway. That's not even what this is about, is it?"

Mike snaps instantly back into defensive mode. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you snap at any guy that even talks to me. You undermine _my _ability to stand up for myself."

"I'm just trying to help-"

"No. You're still trying to assert yourself as the big strong knight in shining armour in my life. But you're not. We're _over_, Mike. It was _you_ that panicked, and _you _that walked away. _You _didn't want me." It costs her everything to say those words and not break down, but, mercifully, she manages to keep her voice steady.

Mike seems to deflate slightly, and when he speaks, it seems he's trying to force himself to calm down too. "Kate, you know that's not true." He runs a hand through his hair. "Look, the course is almost over. Maybe after..."

"And _what_?" She challenges darkly. "I'm supposed to just come running back then?"

He reaches out and takes her hand. "Kate, I miss you-"

"_Don't!_" She snaps, wrenching her arm back. "You... you think a few pretty words are going to make these last few weeks disappear? You _honestly _think I can forgive you for your cowardice? How arrogant are you that-" All of a sudden, Mike cuts her words off with a kiss, and the very force sends them both skidding backwards. Kate's back collides heavily with the thick trunk of a tree, very nearly twisting her ankle on one of its roots in the process, and every fibre of her being is telling her to pull away, but fury and lust and confusion and longing are all welling up inside of her, so that instead, she pulls him closer, hands wrapping around him, nails digging into her back while his hands grip her waist. And, fuck, she's never hated anyone as much as him, and she wants to tear him apart with her bare hands, and she nips at his lip and feels him flinch against her. One hand of his tangles in her hair while the other slides her top up and caresses a bare hip, and then-

"_Shit!_"

One word. One word that hasn't come from either of their mouths.

They both tear apart from each other, Kate cursing aloud, Mike backing away frantically, because insubordination is one thing, but this is fraternisation and _public _at that, and she's just fucked everything up.

"Lib-" Kate begins, even though she has no idea what to say next, but Libby shakes her head.

"_Him_?" She hisses frantically, running forwards and tugging Kate's hand, pulling her away as though Mike was dangerous. "Shit, Kate!" Kate opens her mouth to speak, but Libby shakes her head, and there's uncharacteristic fury in her features. "No! Do you know how much shit you two would be in if literally _anyone _else had just walked by while you two are going at it?" She jabs a finger in Kate's direction, the other hand still gripping her tight. "_You'd _be on the shit road to nowhere, and _you-" _She points to Mike "-would be sent to some tugboat in the middle of some no-name town." She turns back to Kate and tugs on her wrist. "Come on! We're going!"


	6. Chapter 6

Libby mutters furiously the entire way back, still dragging Kate by her wrist so quickly that Kate has to fix her gaze upon the ground so as not to break an ankle. Kate's heart is thumping hard against her ribcage as Libby growls unintelligable phrases and furious insults in a barely-audible string, and she only catches the odd word. _Fucking idiot... Anyone could have... don't know **what**..._

"Lib-" Kate tries as they pass the security gates, but Libby flashes her a look and Kate's words die in her throat. Some distant death-bed-humour-esque part of herself wonders if that was the glare Libby used to give misbehaving children when she was a preschool teacher, and she has to smother the nervous laughter threatening to erupt.

As they reach the dorm room and Libby slams the door behind them, however, all humour leaves. "What in the maritime _fuck_, Katie?' Libby demands, tossing her purse, keys and ID upon her bed without a second glance. More for something to do than any real curiousity, she follows the noise and sees that her own purse is there too; evidentally Libby had grabbed it for her. _"Hello?!" _Libby demands, waving a hand in front of Kate's face. "What the actual hell was all that about?"

Kate tugs at her dog tags, averting her gaze. "It's nothing, okay? Just a mistake." She wants Libby to stop looking at her, wants to retreat beneath her blankets with the lights off and forget, just for a moment, that she'd been so damn stupid.

"No! It's not okay!" Libby snaps, ticking off her version of the events of the night on her fingers. "_First_, Flynn and Boxer looked like they were about to go three rounds in a ring, and _then_ you take off talking to him in a tone that, had anyone else said it, we'd be out on our arses for insubordination. And _then_ I come outside to stop you from decking the guy and find you practically making babies with him instead!" Kate winces at Libby's choice of words, but Libby seems far from done, starting to pace across the room furiously. "Not just making out with our instructor, as if _that _wasn't enough of a colossal fuck up, but making out with him _metres_ away from our whole fucking class where honestly _anyone _could have seen you! Boxer was literally seconds away from coming to find you too! Just get _that_ through your head, about how colossally screwed you would have been!"

"It won't happen again!" In her irritation, Kate aims a kick at her discarded shoe, sending it skidding across the floor where it collides with the wall with a dull _thwack. "_Shit!" She falls to her knees and tries in vain to scrub at the resultant scuff mark in the paint. "Shit."

"You just threw the frat rules out the window and you're worried about a mark? Kate!" Libby tugs at her arm again, directing her to sit down on the bed. "What is going on with you? This... it isn't like you to be this reckless! You've always had a plan-"

"So I screwed up!"

"No!" Libby shakes her head, moving absently towards her drawer and tugging out a small bottle of vodka. With a shaking hand, she uncaps the bottle and downs several mouthfuls, still glaring at Kate. "I don't accept that. _I'm _the one always chasing after boys. _You're _the one chasing books and studying and... and bloody thinking of the future all the time!"

"It was..." Kate flexes her fingers, digging them into her thighs. "Look, too much to drink. Okay?"

"You haven't had a fucking drink all night. Don't bullshit me!" She returns the lid on the bottle and tosses it back in her drawer, exhaling sharply and sinking to the edge of her own bed. "I mean, sure, checking him out isn't against the rules, and he's good looking, but you don't go there, Kate! You just... you _don't._"

"I screwed up, Lib. Okay?" Kate repeats, raking a hand through her hair. The room is suddenly too small for her, and more than anything, she craves outdoor air and space to run as fast as she can, until she can't run anymore. "Shit! I'm going to kill him!" She makes to stand up, but Libby grabs her wrist again.

"Oh no! I'm not entirely confident in your ability to be near him right now. Can you... just stop fucking moving and talk to me! Because you haven't been yourself for weeks, now."

"It's-" But the rest of the words catch in her throat, and she falls silent. And Kate knows that she isn't going to be able to keep lying. Libby is no fool, and Kate... well, she's just blown everything. "Lib, I'm p-"

But there's a knock at the door, and they both fall silent, staring at the door, as though both of them can will away the unwelcome visitor just with their minds. But there's another knock, and Libby curses again, stalking to the door and tearing it open. For a moment, she looks in disgust, and then she walks back to her bed and sits on it, arms folded. "You shouldn't be here." She mutters.

Mike walks inside the room, looking terrified as if he was walking into a gun battle, but determined all the same. "I need to talk to Kate."

"Well, she's not talking to you just now." Libby growls back, not looking away. "I don't think it's exactly wise for you to be making housecalls, _Sir._"

"No." Kate shakes her head, and it's as if someone else is in control of her body all of a sudden. And it's a strangely calming feeling. "Lib, just... please, I'm sorry. Can you just... just wait outside for a minute?"

"Don't exactly think that's the best idea you've had all night." Libby mutters darkly, her gaze flickering to Mike. "But it's certainly not your worst."

"Please." Kate repeats, and she feels as though she's practically begging. "Please, just do this for me."

Libby doesn't say anything in agreement, but moves to the door once more, shoulders still squared. "I'm right outside the door." She hisses. "And if I hear the faintest slurping-" She trails off darkly, and leaves.

Mike looks anxiously at the closed door, and his resolve seems to leave. "Uh, Kate. I..." He swallows dryly. "Look, after tonight, I guess there are some things I need to say-"

"No, I would like to say something first." Kate cuts in, and her hands are shaking and she's upset her best friend and let herself down, but some pre-Mike part of her is screaming at her to make this right, and so she pulls herself up and fixes her gaze upon him. "This needs to end. No more looking at me in class with mournful expressions. No more calling me Kate. No more interfering in my social life and going all overprotective at the pub and _certainly _no more kissing me. And _especially _not to end an argument. It's a weak thing to do, and I will not allow you to silence me like that again."

He seems to flinch with each word, but she can see him pull together a cocky expression. "I didn't hear you com-"

Kate takes a step forwards, glaring at him with every ounce of hatred she can muster. "So help me, if you finish that sentence with 'complaining', I might just hit you, and it would be worth the charges. I am not your property, or your plaything. You were upset because you thought that Boxer was touching me without my permission, but you did the exact same thing. And you did it only to prove a point. And that disgusts me."

"Kate, I'm sorry."

"Do _not _call me Kate. You gave up that right." She gestures at the door where, she knows, Libby is standing. "You were willing to sacrifice my career just for a cheap kiss to prove a damn point. Not only that, but you have now involved my best friend. You... you can't keep playing with my life."

Mike swallows. "I honestly don't want to lose you. And after this course is over, I... I want to talk to you."

Kate bites her lip as one of her hands brushes against her belly, just for a moment. But she can't raise a baby on half-hearted maybes. "So tell me this, Mike. And answer me honestly. After this course is over, what do you want? Do you want a family? Children? Marriage? A life together? Or do you just want someone to screw on your shore leave? Because I'm not going to sacrifice my career for a 'maybe', Mike. I need more than that."

"I..." Mike seems to falter, choking on his words. His hand twitches, as though considering taking her own. But a moment later, it falls lamely to his side. "I... I don't know. I... I want you. Isn't that enough?"

She smiles sadly up at him for a moment, digging her fingernails into her palms. She can break down in a moment. But now... now she needs to be strong. "It's not, Mike." She takes a step forward and she inhales, as though expecting her to kiss him. But she reaches past and tugs the door open. "From now on, you're just my teacher, and I'm just your student. I don't want to talk with you about anything not related to the syllabus I am here to learn." She nods at the door pointedly. "Goodbye, Mike."

She turns away, refusing to meet his eye, and she doesn't see him leave. But a moment later, the door closes, and she lets herself fall to the bed, feeling all the fragile little pieces of herself that she's been trying to desperately to hold on to come crashing down. And she folds in on herself, sobbing as she's never sobbed before.

The door opens once more, and she hates that part of herself that is wishing for it to be Mike, even though she knows that those soft footsteps aren't his. A moment later, she feels the bed dip and Libby's hair brushes the back of her neck. "Kate?" She whispers, wrapping an arm around her. "It's going to be okay, Sweetie."

* * *

"It's been more than a kiss, hasn't it?" Libby murmurs beside her. It's late, and the sounds of movement from the nearby rooms and people moving about the corridors has long since faded. Libby had moved from Kate's side only to turn the light out and draw the blankets over the top of them, before returning dutifully. All rage has long since faded from Libby's voice, too, left, it seemed, with Mike Flynn. Now, she just sounded worried.

"Yes." Kate admits. Her voice is slightly croaky, hiccups still wracking her body. But she's drawing strength from Libby's comfort and besides... she owes Libby the truth, after what she'd seen and heard tonight. "We... uh... we met before the course."

"He's your bookshop guy, isn't he?" Libby guesses, and Kate nods against her. "So, what happened?"

"I..." She hesitates, not because she doesn't want to tell Libby the truth. She just can't figure out how to put the pain of it into words. For a moment, she teeters on the edge of speech, trying desperately to find the words. Then she shrugs. "We met. And... and fell in love. And he... I don't know. He never said the words, and neither did I but... but I thought..." She doesn't want to express all the stupid foolish things she'd thought... hoped. "And then, I walked into that lecture hall on our first day and there he was."

"Oh, Katie."

"I would have kept seeing him. I would have... would have broken the rules and kept going but he... he promised to meet me, to talk. And I did my damned hair and makeup and went to see him and... and he'd gone. And the next day in class, it was like nothing had ever happened." She feels the familiar lump at the back ofher throat, but she has no more tears to cry. Hiccuping once more, she draws the blanket higher up. "Tonight... I don't know. He got jealous, I guess. And we fought. And then he kissed me and for a moment... it was like I could pretend things were the way they were before when he was just Mike."

There's a sniff from behind her, and she knows that Libby is crying for her. When Libby speaks, however, her voice is quite steady. "Listen, I know it doesn't feel like it now. But a few years from now, Mike Flynn is just going to be a blip on the radar." Her hand brushes through Kate's hair again. "He's not worth your tears and heartbreak, Hon."

And the confession that's on her lips dies yet again.

* * *

The next few days pass in a haze of tiredness and uncertainty. She's still off her food, still jittery and distracted and more inclined to nap during her free time than she normally would, but at least Libby leaves her be. Kate knows, in Libby's mind at least, she's attributing her symptoms to heartbreak, rather than anything more, and while guilt still gnaws at her, she takes the free pass that fate has given her.

It isn't until Tuesday afternoon, however, that she runs into Boxer. He's been uncharacteristically quiet, or as quiet as Boxer could be. Of course, he was still his usual self out in the halls, but any jibes or teasing towards her has ceased. He seems to have been caught mid-jog, a drink bottle held loosely in one hand and the other readjusting his earphones, but he stops dead as he sees her.

He doesn't move towards her, but after a moment he seems to slacken with guilt and recognition that she is going to approach him, and Kate obeys, veering to the right to move to him. He gives a half-hearted wave in her direction, but she ignores it, not speaking until she is right in front of him.

"You've been avoiding me." Kate points out before she can stop herself.

He has the good grace to look awkward. "Yeah." He admits, fidgeting with his drink bottle for a moment before the words seem to spill out. "I... well, I didn't want to make things worse for you. And... look, I'm sorry if I upset you the other night or-"

"Boxer, it's fine. Honestly."

"No, it's not! I... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or make you leave."

"I left because of M... of Lieutenant Commander Flynn showing up, okay? I promise, it wasn't because of you."

"If you're sure, I..." He hesitates. "Because, you know I... the things I said, I was just kidding and-"

"Boxer... I know, okay." Kate assures him, trying desperately to make him understand. "I'm mad you've been avoiding me, not anything else."

He looks around for a moment, but they're quite alone. Even so, when he speaks, he's barely audible. "That time... at basic training... I mean-"

"I never said a thing to anyone." She promises, trying for a reassuring smile as she hides her surprise. It's a topic he hasn't brought up since it had happened. "And I won't. Ever. I promise."

He hesitates for a moment, as though about to explain more. A moment later, however, he seems to think better of it, and he simply nods, jaw set. "Right. Good. Because... because you're a good mate. And I'd hate to lose you. But... I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yep." She agrees, fidgeting with her dog tags once more. "See you around."

* * *

She's sick of waiting rooms. Kate huffs with irritation as she takes a seat in one of the straight-backed vinyl chairs that are almost definitely older than her. She allows herself just one moment to close her eyes and pretend that she's somewhere, anywhere other than this, perhaps in a lecture hall, waiting for a guest speaker, or on a beach somewhere. But then she forces herself back to her spiraling reality, and the sickly smell of disinfectant. Across from her is the very same poster she'd first seen in Doctor Grey's office, accompanied with dozens of other confronting diagrams, and in that moment she decides she never wants to have sex again.

Glaring at the poster for a moment, she turns to the clipboard she'd been handed when she'd arrived, and dutifully begins to fill out her details. And she decides that she's sick of filling out forms too, of using the name 'Katie' and having to answer questions about her most recent sexual encounter and how long has she been sexually active.

"Fuck my life." She murmurs under her breath, as she fills in what feels like every single detail about her twenty-three years on earth, and feels the chant repeat with every stroke of the pen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"You done?" As Kate rises with her completed paperwork and makes her way towards the front desk, the receptionist smiles at Kate in a way in a transparently fake way that tells Kate he's ready to go home. And it strikes her how odd it seems that a man would take a receptionist job here of all places. She sticks out her chin and tries to command herself with the same authority as the Lieutenant she's been striving to be, and nods.

"Yes." Kate adds for good measure, handing over the clipboard. "Ah, how long will-"

"Take a seat and someone will call for you shortly." He interjects, eyes fixed on her paperwork. "It shouldn't be too long."

"Right." She nods, returning to her seat and wrapping an arm around herself once more. "Right."

* * *

It seems as though on each and every cover of all the ridiculously outdated magazines located around the waiting room, there is always someone pregnant. And as Kate flicks idly through the pages, all she sees are phrases like _exciting family news_ and _baby bump_ and _pregnancy scandal,_ and she tosses each magazine aside in irritation.

Can it sense what she's planning? Does it know that its days are numbered?

Even though the day is warm, she shivers, feeling the hairs rise on her arms. Then she curses at herself for being so stupid, and digs her fingernails into her arms. No. It was better this way, really. It had to be. Then she could truly and completely forget about Mike Flynn, and graduate with her friends, and live her life.

Lieutenant.

She will be a Lieutenant.

She will be Chief of Navy.

She will be something more than this mistake.

"Katie McGregor?" A voice calls out, and Kate flushes as she stands, as though one of these strangers in the room with her will recognise her name, will know Mike, or Libby or Boxer or the Olinsky's or someone that will let the secret out. But a moment later, no one is looking at her, save for the tall man at the end of the corridor, white coat wrapped around him. Yet again, she'd been expecting a woman. "Through here." He smiles, and she follows, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

He leads her down a small corridor, and Kate finds herself glancing at each and every door, her brain working in overtime to imagine the horrors behind. Of course, she's done her research. Knows what the procedure will entail. But she can't rid her imagination of the dramatic and horrifying creations it is forming. Then she tells herself to get a grip, and allows herself to be lead into a small room with that same damned poster on the wall.

He takes a seat opposite her, looking completely out of place. In fact, as Kate looks at him, she comes to the conclusion that the only possible place this man - doctor, she corrects herself - would ever look in place is dressed as Santa and standing in front of a sleigh. His white beard hides most of his chin, and his round glasses cover wide, twinkling eyes. "Now, Katie-"

"Kate." She corrects automatically.

"Kate." He agrees. "My name is Doctor Gambit and I'm here today just to have a chat with you about what you decide to do with your pregnancy. The purpose of today is purely to ensure that you are confident and supported in whatever decision you choose to make. I understand that you have discussed a termination with your GP, but it is our standard procedure that we have a counseling session beforehand to ensure that any questions or concerns you have are answered. Does that sound alright?" She nods, feeling like a child more than anything else, and he shifts in his seat. "Well, Kate. Why don't we start by talking about what brings you here?"

Kate blinks. "Isn't it kind of obvious?" He gives a wry sort of smile and tips his head, and Kate huffs. "I'm here because... because my contraception failed, and I... I..." But she trails off, feeling the familiar lump in her throat. Discreetly, Dr Gambit hands over a box of tissues. She takes one gratefully, swiping angrily at her eyes before crushing the tissue tight into her fist. "...and I can't be a mother."


	7. Chapter 7

_**a/n**: _**_TRIGGER WARNING_**

_obviously, Kate has a big decision to make, and there has been a bit of mention of termination of pregnancy in previous chapters. I take mental health very seriously, so I want to warn that these themes are a lot more heavy in this one, so if you feel that could be an issue for you, don't read. if you want, pm, and I can give a cliff notes recap_

_Everyone has different views, experiences and beliefs, and I am writing about a character, not myself. Kate's views, thoughts and actions are not indicative of my own. Her inner.monologue does not reflect my own personal thoughts. therefore I am not interested in reading comments purely in regards to personal beliefs on the ethics of pregnancy termination. However, I welcome comments about the actual story, and I love hearing your speculation and concrit. Anywho, thank you all for sticking with my madness! _

* * *

It's still dark when she showers and washes herself, but she doesn't turn on the lights. The darkness seems to suit her, anyway. She doesn't think she can cope catching sight of her reflection this morning. She dresses in silence, careful not to wake Libby, and moves out of the dorm. There, as she walks, she removes her jewellery - her dog tags, earrings and bracelet, and slides them into a cliplock bag. They'd told her to do that.

They'd told her that she could bring a support person too. Someone to be with her as she takes the final steps towards the dreaded After. But of course, she asks no one. What point would it have been, really, to tell Libby? And it would have been downright selfish to ask Mike.

No. It was better this way. Her secret.

She hadn't slept very much the night before, either. She'd had a couple of hours of interrupted dozing before finally calling it quits and slipping out of the dorm to head to the beach. She'd been counting on the waves to calm her, to ease her mind and her conscience and remind her of _why _she was doing this, but it does nothing. And why should it, really? This... this choice she's making is selfish and destructive. Why should the universe offer her any semblance of peace?

She doesn't eat, as per her instructions from the clinic. Afterwards, perhaps, she will stop at a liquor store and drink, just to get herself through the first night. Except that the very thought of doing _this_ and then trying to sleep sends her gagging, and she has to stop and vomit shamefully in a garden bed behind the bus stop.

So she sits, waiting for the bus, not quite sure if she wants it to arrive or not, her stomach churning with bile and the breath mints she's subconsciously chewing through to hide the smell from her breath.

The bus ride itself lasts for ages and, simultaneously, no time at all, but she knows the one back to base will be worse. And she avoids eye contact with anyone, as though, if they examined her hair and eyes and pallor for long enough, they would _know. _And she knows she must look terrible, all pale and sweating and twitching, bundled in a too-big hoodie and leggings. Hell, with her constant scratching at a scab on her wrist, she probably looks more like a junkie than the Naval Officer she's training to be, and she has to force herself to sit still, all the while repeating the mantra she's been trying desperately to convince herself of for weeks.

Soon.

Soon it will all be over.

Soon.

And then life will go back to normal.

And she can forget.

_Except-_

No-

She balls her hands into fists as the unwanted thoughts flit across her brain.

The baby will not live on.

But her guilt will.

She wonders if she will ever be able to live with that.

* * *

There's more paperwork. First, she fills out another registration with that same information, and she wonders if, with every future signature she gives, she will be brought back to here, to this dreadful day. They confirm her blood type yet again, as if it will have changed since they last checked. Then, they ask for the contact number of her support person.

It's a complication she's yet to consider, and she's barely stopped to consider the ramifications before she gabbles _Donna. Donna McGregor_ and rattles off the number of a house neither of them have lived at in years. And then she takes her seat and wonders why the fuck she'd spoken _that _name aloud.

Mother.

She'd been about as much a mother to Kate as Kate was being to this kid.

She grits her teeth in the waiting room and repeats all the things she knows her future will hold if she does this. Tells herself that the cells - because that's all that's there, right? Cells? - will be gone, and then she will be a Lieutenant, and rise through the ranks, and be Chief of Navy. And there will be other children, later. When she's ready. When the time is better. When she's in a better place.

* * *

She'd known that there would be an ultrasound, had researched the reasons why this was so important, and could recite studies word perfectly. But nothing could have prepared her for the feeling she gets as she turns her head to the screen and sees... _it. _Them.

It's not... _love _precisely.

No.

It's hard to feel love for something that, up until now, you've been mentally dehumanising in every thought. But there's something. Something she can't quite put a word to. If she was forced, she supposes she might think of electricity, a sharp jolt of realisation that this... this collection of cells and atoms could one day be a human being. But there's something else. Something like creators recognition. She had grown this inside of her. And, yes, Mike Flynn was at least partly responsible for the conception, but it was _her _body, _her _nutrients, _her _actions that had contributed to this. To the heartbeat pounding in the room, strong and healthy. Unknowing that its beats were numbered.

And then...

The image is gone, and the technician is wiping the machine.

And it hits her that this will be the last time she sees it.

* * *

Dr Gambit is in a red shirt that only enhances his resemblance to Santa Clause. It throws her that his voice is oh-so-not-jolly.

"So judging by this scan, Kate, I am placing you at about ten weeks gestation, which is consistent with the time frame you had given us. As we discussed, at this stage, you have elected for a surgical abortion..."

The words wash over her, soft, nonsensical words that mean nothing to her.

Almost as if she's not there at all.

* * *

She changes into a gown and puts her clothes and possessions into a locker. Smooths the edges of her paper gown, as if it means anything. Nothing means anything to her at the moment. People keep telling her things but her brain is like cotton wool and nothing sticks. She already feels numb.

She'd heard something about risk, because they'd made sure she listened to that, tapping her on the shoulder and forcing her to focus. They'd explained the risks to her, too. Slim risks, they'd assured, but risks none the same. And she wonders whether it would be better for the world if something _did _go wrong. Whether anyone would miss her at all.

How selfish is she, really, to take a life purely because she's convinced herself that achieving a few stripes on her shoulder will make a difference to the world. She's just a girl. Just a sad, fucked up girl, chanting apologies in her head, and everything is a mess, and... and the room is spinning and...

And she just makes it to the sink before she throws up, and she wishes she could keep going, that she could purge all the hatred and regret and sadness from her body and get on with her life. Except, that's not the way life goes. Or death. Or anything in between that she is about to do.

There's graffiti all around her, nonsensical words halfheartedly scrubbed away, and Kate reaches up to finger a sentence on the wall beside her.

**_there is no god in this building. i'm sorry_**

The words make her feel worse, and she wonders how many women had sat, shaking, in this very room, trying desperately to make themselves feel better about the decision they'd made.

Her thoughts are incoherent, her body jittery, like the first time she'd ever had coffee. Her blood vessels are vibrating beneath her skin, threatening to burst through and splatter her entire being all over the walls. And who would miss her, really? What good is she, with her thoughts sparking around her head and her heart threatening to explode in her chest.

Time seems to be jumping around with her heart pounding in her, so that, one moment, she's dutifully cleaning her own vomit from the chipped porcelain, then scraping back her hair. Gripping the edges of the sink and staring at her reflection in the mirror. The girl that stares back at her from the mirror is barely recognisable as herself, and it's only now that Kate realises just how much weight she's lost. She's practically skeletal, and suddenly, with crashing realisation, she understands why everyone has been so concerned for her health and wellbeing. Even now, she looks as though she's seconds away from a complete breakdown.

She feels like it too. Her pulse is banging in her eardrums, and with shaking hands, she digs in her pocket for her phone, but her fingers slip and it clatters to the tiled floor. And the world is spinning and she doesn't even realise she is hyperventilating until a nurse is in front of her, holding a paper bag against her face.

* * *

"We couldn't reach your support person." The voice is soothing. Hannah, she'd said her name was. The nurse that had sat with her, calmed her down.

She'd given Kate a cup of water, even though her stomach is still churning and adding anything to it seems inadvisable. Kate cups the cool plastic nonetheless, watching the reflections of the fluorescent overhead lights in the surface of the liquid.

"I lied." Kate's voice is a croak. "The number. It's... it's disconnected." She goes to tug on her dog tags, then remembers that they're still tucked in the bottom of her bag. "No one knows I'm here."

"Right." Hannah nods solemnly, like she understands. Maybe she does. After all, the procedure leaves no physical marks after all. Was she carrying around the weight of a decision like this too? "Kate, what do you want to do?"

Kate doesn't know what to say, because she _doesn't _know what she wants to do. That was the problem after all. She doesn't want Hannah's kindness, or her questioning. She just wants someone to come in and take the weight of this decision away from her. She's so damned sick of having to be the adult all the time. "I don't know what to do." She murmurs, one hand dancing across her gown-covered middle. "I don't... I just don't know." She places a hand over her eyes, relishing in the cool darkness. She wishes that she could sleep, sleep for a thousand days and just wake up and have her life in order.

"Kate, this... this is going to be the hardest decision you ever make. But... it's got to be _yours_. This... no one else can make this decision for you."

Kate opens her eyes, returns to the bright, glaring, screaming world, drawing her knees up to her chest. "I never wanted to get pregnant. So... so why do I feel so bad?"

"Kate, if you keep this child because you feel pressured and you really don't want to, you could regret it. And if you terminate this pregnancy when you really want to keep it, you could regret it. The regret and sadness, it's won't be because you've made a choice. It will be if you feel you've made the _wrong_ choice. So I can't tell you how you feel. Only you can. If doing this... terminating this pregnancy is a scarier thought to you than not doing it, then... then don't. Anything else after... adoption, you being a mum... you can figure that out later. We can _help _you figure that out later. But here and now... you need to make a choice. And it won't be easy, but it has to be _yours._" And it's costing Kate everything to focus on Hannah's words, but she knows she needs to.

"I..." She hesitates for a moment, her throat dry, and knows that this is the defining moment in her life. Here she is, standing on the edge, trying to figure out whether to jump into the unknown, or step back onto safe ground. When she speaks, her voice is shaking, and it's costing her everything to just keep going. To be brave. "I keep trying to tell myself that they're just cells, that I'm not killing anything. I keep..." Her fingers flail in front of her. "I keep trying to justify it all in my head. To convince myself that it's my only choice. That I don't have a maternal bone in my body, but... but I keep dreaming about this kid and... and the things they could do. The life they could leave. I... I'm training in the Navy to help people." She looks up at Hannah properly for the first time. "Who am I to deny someone else's existence before they're even born?"

* * *

The world looks different when she steps outside and makes her way towards the bus stop. Not brighter, or darker. Not greener, or duller. She's not seeing children dancing in the street, picking flowers. Nor is she watching doom, gloom and sorrow all around her.

And she can't quite put into words _why _everything seems different. Only that it is.

It isn't until she is on the bus back to base, with tears pricking at her eyes and a hand on her middle, but with a huge weight lifted from her shoulders, that she realises that this, more than any other decision she has ever made, _will _change the world.

"I guess you're here to stay, Squirt." She murmurs, and despite the fear and anguish still coursing through her veins... she feels, for the first time, that she is going to have a baby.


	8. Chapter 8

"Does anyone actually remember what life was like outside these walls?" Boxer groans, kneading his knuckles into his forehead and moaning. "I mean, I thought the point of the last few weeks was to revise, not tackle mountains of essays!" He sits up a little straighter and looks at Kate's sheet of notes, but Kate glares and turns the paper the other way. "Oh, come on, Princess! I swear, I don't understand a word of this!"

"I think it's a plot to kill us." Rhiannon chips in, leaning forwards to pluck a handful of Doritos from the communal bags of junk food they'd snuck in. Cheese-dust falls to her own page, but she dusts it off easily.

"Kill Boxer, more like." Tommo mutters, and they all turn to him. "Oh, come on, didn't Flynn give you 2000 words on insubordination just because you cracked a joke in class?" He glances at his watch. "Better get a move on with that one. We're due in class in an hour and he'll want that handed in. Mind you, it was Princess who was getting all smart with him the other night, not Box." He curses as he scribbles with his pen. "Anyone got a black pen I can borrow? That's the third one that's run out of ink!" He tosses it across the room, and they all watch its progress idly as it hits the side of a shelf and lands neatly in the bin. Kate digs into her bag and drops a new pen in front of him. "Cheers." He mutters, before turning back to the group. "But seriously, when my brother Nick served with Flynn, he said he was a hoot. Now he's a total hard-arse."

"Well, whatever he is, I figured _his _homework out. But I'm stuck on Coughlin's _Procedural Essay_." Jules moans, tugging a lollipop from her mouth as she speaks. "I'm two-hundred odd words short."

"Just add words like, 'I believe' and 'As such' to the beginning of each sentence." Boxer suggests, turning back to his papers, though he looks up again at Kate's scoff. "Oh, come on, Princess! It's Watson's Bay, not Advanced English class! We don't all write essays for fun."

"Yeah, because I'm jumping for joy now." Kate mutters back distractedly. "This is my ultimate Friday night. _And _I get to do it on a Tuesday!"

"Cute." Boxer crinkles his nose for a moment, before speaking again. "I mean, I'm in the prime of my life, here!" He waves a hand vaguely over his body. "I'm young. Hot. I should be on a beach in the sunshine with someone expensive. Not... struggling through... _this._ Princess, can I _please_ just read through your notes?" He lifts a piece of paper up to the light and frowns. "I think I spilled salsa and guac all over my notes from the 22nd."

"Ooooh, we should order nachos." Jules murmurs, just as her stomach grumbles. "I'm so hungry I could-"

"Incoming." Libby mutters, peering over Kate's shoulder. In one swift movement, they all reach forward and grab one of the bags of snacks scattered across their table. Kate seizes the bag of Mars bars and drops them straight into her still-open bag, before nudging it out of sight. Too late, Kate realises that the move must look ultra-suspicious to say the least, but even though the Lieutenant in charge of the library eyes them suspiciously as he passes, he says nothing more as he moves by and out of sight. "Alright, we're good." She murmurs a few moments later, but groans as she eyes the still growing pile of books. "God, I miss singing _Twinkle Twinkle._"

"I don't know, I think changing nappies is still more daunting than this." Jules concedes, as she tugs a gummy worm from the packet still resting on her lap and chews it thoughtfully. "Kids weird me out."

"Yeah, I second that." Rhiannon agrees. "I'd still take the Navy over kids and their... weird excretions."

Tommo coughs pointedly, but his warning takes too long for them all to process, and by the time they've all realised that another person is watching them and made their attempts to hide their confectionery, Commander Olinsky is already clearing his throat from the doorway. "Studying hard?" He asks, torn between sternness and amusement at their contraband snacks.

"Yes, Commander Olinsky." Rhiannon chimes automatically, sitting up a little straighter as she always does when someone else in the room outranks her. "Uh, we were just... uh..."

"Hmm..." He smiles at them warmly as he leans closer. "I'd keep your snacks better hidden than that, if I was you. Or _someone _might have to confiscate contraband snacks. Sub-Lieutenant McGregor, could I borrow you for a moment?"

"Uh, yes Sir." Kate agrees, pushing herself to her feet and moving to follow him. She expects him to stop just outside the door, but he leads the way out of the library and towards the end of the corridor before turning back to her. The unexpected quest for privacy worries her, and she stops in the middle of a deserted corridor. "It's not Mrs O, is it? She's okay?"

"No!" He says quickly. "I mean," He sees her panicked gaze. "Elle's fine, Kate. But... look, it's..." He sucks in a deep breath. "It's about Donna. She sent this to the house for you."

He doesn't sugarcoat the news like Mrs O would, and for that, she's grateful. But the mere mention of Donna is enough to knock the wind out of her all the same, and she takes a step backwards, a hand automatically curling around herself. "Right." She doesn't take the envelope he is holding out though, staring at it as though she expects it to explode. Truth be told, Donna had been on her mind, the distant idea of her flitting in and out of her memories just as Donna had with Kate's life. And after all, she'd chosen to speak Donna's name in the clinic, hadn't she? Hadn't that meant something to her? More and more, Kate finds herself dwelling over Donna. Of what it meant to be a mother.

"I haven't read it." Mr O presses, lowering his voice slightly. "And you don't have to either. But we had to give it to you."

"Okay." Kate stammers. "I... I have to go back now."

"Kate-" He reaches out, as though about to squeeze her hand, but after a moment seems to think better of it. "Look, come by the house if you want. Any time. I feel like I barely get to see you anymore."

"You see me every day." Kate murmurs distractedly, hand shaking slightly as she takes the envelope and glances at the name on the front. Donna had dotted the 'i' in Katie with a minute heart.

"Yeah." Mr O agrees, smiling at her. "But you're Sub-Lieutenant McGregor here. Not my Kate." He pats her gently on the arm, just for a moment. "Call if you need me, okay? Anytime."

* * *

She feels as though she's in a daze as she walks down the corridors. From behind each closed door comes the vague sounds of other lessons, other lives going on, but she's oblivious to them all.

A letter.

Years of nothing, and then a fucking letter.

She tugs it back from her pocket, seizes it in both hands and readies herself to rip it up, to tear it into a thousand tiny pieces... but she can't.

"Shit." She mutters, feeling the familiar lump rising in her throat as she walks distantly towards her dorm. "Shit."

* * *

She'd been cooking pasta. Kate remembers that much. She'd never really been a fan of pasta, but the ninety-nine-cent packet of spirals and the cheap canned tomatoes were the makings of a semi-decent meal and it was affordable. Easy. She'd been doing her homework at the same time - algebra. The steam from the boiling pasta had made the pages of her notebook curl at the edges, and her pen had been fading.

Strange how you remember things like that. The way she'd scratched and scribbled on the back cover of her notebook, trying desperately to keep the ink flowing.

It had been hot too. They'd never had A/C in that house, just a fan that managed to do nothing but lamely waft the hot air from one end of the house to the other. Kate had tied ribbons to grill, once, long ago. The colours had long since faded, their flying in the breeze almost mocking.

And then Donna had staggered in, and Kate could already smell the booze on her. And she'd swayed and Kate had glared, not just because her mother had taken her tartan school-skirt and hiked it up her thighs, but because Kate could already tell where the night would end up for both of them - Donna semi-conscious somewhere and Kate out to pick her up.

Kate was sick of it. Sick of being the adult. Sick of cooking and cleaning and working. Sick of pubs and strange men and the smell of vomit-tinged sheets.

She'd known things kids shouldn't know.

The smell of piss-soaked mattresses, because of how many times Donna had wet the bed after a bender.

The revolving door of equally-drunk men in her mother's room.

And sometimes Kate's own room. Though she'd fought him off. Just. And slept in the bathroom after that, because it was the only door with a lock.

Sick of it.

A house of no trust.

A house of no love.

So Kate had looked away in disgust.

Maybe.

Had she said anything to aggravate Donna first? Years later, Kate couldn't remember. And maybe she had. By that time, she'd stopped indulging in the fairy tale of Donna finally being the mother she needed. Kate might have said something. She'd just been seventeen, after all.

Barely seventeen.

And her friends had all turned seventeen and gotten a car.

And Kate had gotten a backhander.

So maybe she'd said something. Words tinged in anger and disgust and self-pity. Or maybe she'd just looked away.

But Donna had shoved roughly past Kate and opened another bottle of bourbon and grunted **_don't look at me like that _**and taken a drag of her cigarette. And so many nights, this would have been the end of it, but that night... Donna had kept pushing.

Screaming **_you think you're so much better than me?! You think I'm scum! You look down your nose at me and I'm fucking sick of it. _**And cigarette ash had dropped into the saucepan as she kept moving forwards, until Kate was flat against the chipped tiled wall. **_You think you'd be fucking better off without me, don't you?! _**

And maybe another night, Kate would have been silent. And maybe another night, Donna would have walked away.

But that night... Kate had screamed back **_yes, _**and there'd been _something_ in Donna's eyes as she'd left the room, left her crying daughter, left Kate's life. And that _something _had stuck with Kate all those years.

Wondering if that one word - _**yes** _\- had been the excuse Donna had been hoping for.

* * *

She knows she's late the moment she opens her eyes. Instantly, panic floods through her entire body before she's even fully registered why, and she curses loudly. "Shit. Shit shit shit."

She pushes herself up off the pillow, unsticking the damned letter from her cheek as she moves. And she hadn't meant to sleep. Hell, she hadn't even consciously come back to the dorm room. She'd just needed somewhere that she could break down and... and now she was late. Cursing, she move to grab her bag and books before remembering that she'd left them in the study room before she'd talked to Mr O and...

She glances at her watch and curses again. She's forty minutes late to Advanced Navigation. "Shit shit _shit." _

She runs through the empty halls, still cursing everything to do with Donna. And, hell, she's not entirely sure if she locked their dorm room after, or if Libby has thought to bring her things to class, but her heart is pounding and of all the damn classes she could be late to, it had to be _his_.

There's no time to compose herself. No time to get her breathing under control or fix the strands of hair pulled free from her bun and now loose around her face. The door to his classroom is open and she's all-too-visible as she steps over the threshold.

"You're late." She'd never imagined anyone could inject that much hatred and contempt into their words. Nervously, her hands go to her hair, trying desperately to smooth it back.

She forces her words to be as calm as she can make them. "I'm sorry, Sir. I... I lost track of time, which has never happened before but I can catch up-"

"You do realise that one of the key aspects that can make or break an Officer are the letters of recommendation, or otherwise, that they receive?" He cuts across her. And as she stammers, so taken aback by the cold indifference towards her, she notices that whatever warmth she had once seen in his eyes is now gone.

"Y... yes, Sir." She agrees tentatively.

"So if you can not be trusted to perform a task as simple as arriving to class on time, do you honestly think _anyone _in good conscience would _ever _give you command of a multi-million dollar warship?"

"I'm... I'm sorry." She frowns. "I can catch up. I'll-"

"The Navy is not a fairy tale, or a dating service, or a free ride. You make a mistake in the Navy, and you cost people their lives."

Kate has to bite her tongue to stop herself swearing. More than anything, his mention of the phrase 'dating service' pisses her off the most. "I am aware of that, Sir. However, I do think there is a difference between a genuine mistake and-"

"Sub-Lieutenant." He says her rank as though he's spitting a filthy insult at her, emphasising each syllable. "You have already disrupted my class with your late arrival. Your peers do not wish to waste more of their own time on the delightful recounts of your ineptitude." Kate feels as though she's just been slapped. Someone in the back lets out a low whistle. And it seems like years that they stare each other down, but despite her embarrassment, she's determined not to break eye contact. And it's him that eventually looks away, with the lightest flash of... is it guilt? "Take a seat." He spits dismissively at her, turning away. "You can collect notes from one of your peers after class." She turns, and hears him add under his breath, "...your extensive social life permitting, _of course._"

She digs her fingernails into the skin of her wrist, willing herself not to cry. Not over him. But she's always been an angry crier, and rage is filling her up, all bubbling hot and ugly beneath the surface of her skin, and it's costing her everything to keep the tears inside of her. She moves quickly towards the empty seat beside Libby, glad at least that her possessions are there waiting for her, though it's a hollow victory.

"You okay?" Libby whispers, as Mike continues to speak. "You just disappeared."

Kate locks eyes with him once more and squares her jaw, digging blindly for a pen and notepad. "Yep." She murmurs back. "I'll be fine."

* * *

She's the one that stays behind this time, staying stubbornly in her seat as the rest of her classmates file past her. Some, like Boxer, clap her reassuringly on the shoulder. Others avoid her, as though disapproval from an officer is catching. He doesn't look at her though, instead busying himself with packing up his lecture notes and bag.

She's determined to wait him out though. She knows he can't lock the door with her still in it, nor can he leave the room unsecured. At some point, he will have to turn his attention, however unwilling, upon her, and she waits, not sure of _what _she is going to say, only that she needs to speak to him.

He's checked his phone, reorganised his briefcase and adjusted the collar on his shirt before he gives a near inaudible sigh and turns to her. "What are you still doing here, McGregor?" He murmurs, eyes fixed on a spot just to the left of her. "I would have thought you'd do better trying to source notes of the lesson you just missed. Or checking your MySpace."

"I'm certainly apologetic that I missed half my class, _Sir. _But did you really have to speak to me like that in front of everyone?"

He looks surprised by her anger. Perhaps he'd deluded himself into thinking she would continue to apologise, or maybe even break down. She wonders, fleetingly, if it would have been worth seeing his discomfort, just to break down in front of him. But the fury she's feeling - at herself, and Donna and him - are filling her with more stubbornness than despair. "Are you questioning my teaching methods?" He hisses in her direction.

"No. Merely your apparent inclination to humiliate me for a genuine human error."

"Genuine-" Mike scoffs, before shaking his head. "You know what? Just go! I... I can't even look at you."

"You can't even look at me?" Kate repeats, crossing her arms and trying to convey by her body language that she intends to go nowhere. "I got some bad news, and I'm studying like crazy, and I'm exhausted, and I fell asleep. And I didn't mean to, and I certainly didn't want to. But you're acting as though I've just stabbed you in the back-"

"Haven't you?!" He moves forwards and shuts the door, so that they're less easily heard, even though the corridor is quite clear now. Even so, he lowers his voice as he jabs a hand vaguely towards the window. "Tell me, Kate, was it all a sick game to you? Or was I just some way to climb up the ladder?"

"What?!" Kate splutters. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you." He takes a step forwards, eyes flashing, but for the life of her, Kate still has no idea what he is speaking about. Unless...

Unless he'd seen her at the clinic.

Unless he knew.

Mike must see her face change, because his own twists into a mask of bitter victory. "Yeah. I _know_." However, the next words out of his mouth genuinely confuse her once more. "I saw you with _him_."

"What... _what? Him? _Who is _him?_" She's back to confused again, frowning at him, and when he fails to say anymore, she shakes her head. "You could at least have the decency to tell me what I am supposed to have done!"

"Got a few guys lined up, then, have you?" He shakes his head. "I saw the two of you. You and Olinsky! Him handing you little... little lovenotes." He adopts a low, sultry voice. "_Come by the house, Kate. I've missed you, Kate. Call me, Kate. _You're off screwing him too?" If she wasn't so wound up about her entire life, she might have laughed. Instead, she scoops her bag from the table and shoulders it so forcefully that it bangs hard into the desk, very nearly tipping it over. This... this is too much for her now, on top of everything else. "That's right!" Mike shouts after her. "Just walk away."

"You don't know how wrong you've got it." Kate hisses, hand on the door handle. "But I don't have to fucking explain my personal life to you! _Sir._"

She bursts through the door, not caring where she is going, only that she gets away from him as quickly as she can. And she knows he could have her up on bloody charges for swearing at him, not to mention the potential spin he could put on their history if he was feeling vindictive.

"Shit." She mutters, yet again, running a hand through her hair. "Shit, shit."

She suddenly, desperately craves the ocean, whether to drown herself in it or simply to watch, she's not quite sure. All she knows is a pulsing need to run, to disappear, and she staggers blindly towards fresh air.

**_You think you'd be fucking better off without me, wouldn't you?!_**

**_I saw you. _**

**_Kate!_**

**_Princess. _**

The air all around her is thickening, and Kate feels the all-familiar nausea rising in her stomach. She just makes it to the nearest rubbish bin before she's staggering. The smell of rotting food and decay does absolutely nothing to make her feel any better, and she deposits most of her lunch into the bin before she finally feels safe enough to step back. It's not just the vomit too. Tears are streaming down her face and she's sobbing. Horrible, gasping sobs and she can barely breathe.

The familiar jelly in her legs has returned too, and she staggers in search for something to grab onto, moving further up the block. But her surroundings are spinning and she's struggling to figure out which was is up and-

"Whoa!" A hand grabs her and steadies her, but the world is spinning too much for her to figure out who it is. "Oi. Princess. You right?" It takes a moment for her to match the voice with a face and a name. Then she realises it's Boxer. "Easy. It's okay. I've got you. We're just going to sit, okay? I've got you, Kate."

He helps her into a sitting position, more like a puppeteer than anything else, and she struggles. She tries to move out of his grip, but he holds her tighter, and she groans thickly. "'m fine.. I just feel a bit-" She slumps suddenly as her energy disappears, and there's a clattering of something metal rolling as he supports her.

"No. No, you're not fine. Look at you." She can feel Boxer holding her upright. "What's going on? Have you eaten much? Drank enough water?"

She tries to sit up, but his hands are holding her too tightly to move. "Jus... I'll be fine."

"Stop being so bloody stubborn! If it helps your bloody pride, there's no one else around. But just stop flailing! Here." She hears the clattering of metal once more, and then the carbonated hiss as a can opens. "Drink some of this. Get some sugar into you-"

"No... c-ffeine."

"No caffeine?" He forces the drink to her lips nonetheless. "Look, have a couple of small sips, okay? I haven't got water here." She manages a few more small sips before coughing once more, and she wills herself not to vomit on him. "What are you doing to yourself, Princess? You went down like a sack of potatoes."

She doesn't answer at first. It's almost as if she's there, but not really there at the same time. Her limbs feel as though she does sometimes when she's dreaming, as though she's stuck in quicksand and fighting hard. Everything is heavy against her. She so desperately wants to sleep. "Sorry." She manages.

"Nah, it's fine. Don't apologise. Just breathe. Get your balance back."

Slowly, the world stops spinning, and she's able to make out the open can in front of her, and the others scattered across the concrete. One of his hands is holding her up easily, the other rubbing circles on her back. "Dropped your drinks." She mutters, as more of the world around her starts to come back. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise. You better? Actually, don't answer. You'll lie anyway. Look at me." She obeys, not quite sure what he's looking for, but a moment later he simply nods and says, "Alright, we're going to stand. I'm going to hold you, okay? We'll get your arm around my neck, and we can head to medical. Or I can lie you down and get Libby if you'd prefer she take you."

"No. I'm- I'm fine."

"Kate, I've seen you throwing up a few times. So has Libby. If you're stressing yourself out to this point then you need a break."

"It's not stress. It's..." But she trails off, shaking her head. "No, I just need sleep. I..."

He hesitates for a moment, and looks around to make sure that no one else is there. Then he says the last thing she would have ever expected from him. "Kate... we both know you're pregnant." He looks her up and down briefly. "So how far along are you?"


	9. Chapter 9

"W- what?!" Kate demands, her breathing sharp in her chest. A new kind of nausea washes over her this time, and Boxer seems to sense it. She feels him stop trying to lift her to her feet, although he keeps a gentle hold on her arm still, as though certain she might flee. She's not too sure whether she will either.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" He presses, and the uncharacteristic seriousness in his face throws her completely. She's so used to him cracking jokes, as though any moment now he'll declare that she's gotten fat. But there's none of the usual humour. His eyes are furrowed in concern, voice low. "That's why you've been avoiding the food hall, and throwing up all the time. It's why you've given up caffeine, why you're barely sleeping and why you hug your middle when you're stressed." She can feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she looks away bitterly. "And why you're crying instead of punching me." He adds.

She hates that he's seen her come so undone. A thousand denials and excuses are on the tip of her tongue, but somehow, she can't quite bring herself to voice them, and instead she drops her head into her hands. "How did you figure it out?" She asks softly. There's something - perhaps a childlike conviction that, if she can't see him, then something about this conversation has become less permanent. "No one knows. _No one._"

She hears him shift and take a seat next to her, and his shoulder brushes up against hers. "Well, I... I wanted to be an doctor, years ago." This confession of his is so unexpected that Kate lifts her head and frowns at him. "Yeah, I know. Stupid, really. I mean, look at me. I'm six-foot-five and 'solid as a brick shithouse', as my Pops would say. But I'd always found medicine fascinating. I'd read... medical journals and... and all that stuff since I was ten, basically."

"Why... why didn't you do it then?"

"I was going to, for a bit. Got accepted into medicine at uni and everything." His smile fades slightly. "But then, when Ma got sick, I couldn't justify spending all that money to study for years. So I joined the Navy instead. Steady income, healthcare, housing assistance. And my Pops could afford her chemo rather than spending it on my education."

"Boxer, that's..." Kate trails off.

"Nah, I think this is where I'm meant to be now. I... I want to be a Naval Medic, when all of this training is over. I think... if I can help people out there, I can make a real difference." He smiles. "Ma's in remission now. I wouldn't change that for the world." He sniffs and straightens up, and his voice seems to regain a bit of its usual character. "Uh. But anyway, we were talking about you. You reckon you can stand now?"

Kate nods, and he helps her to her feet. Gingerly, she takes a few steps, and although her limbs still feel a little tingly, she finds she's steadied. "You'd make a great medic, you know." She murmurs, as he leans down and scoops up her bag, throwing it over one of his shoulders.

Boxer gives a shaky laugh. "You think?" He smiles at her. "For what it's worth, I think you'll make a great Mum. Come on. I'll help you back to your dorm."

They fall into step beside each other, Boxer glancing at her every now and then, presumably to make sure she's still okay. She doesn't find this overprotective behaviour frustrating though, as she might have with anyone else. Instead, she feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from her, and that... that she can finally speak about this burden she's been carrying alone.

He stands outside the door and looks to her, and for a moment Kate is sure he is going to initiate another deep-and-meaningful. He glances around him, and leans closer, and Kate feels her heart sink as she realises she's probably right. Then, Boxer speaks. "Keys to your castle, Princess?"

_Oh. _She almost laughs with relief that, for the moment at least, the conversation is not any more serious, before she remembers how she'd dashed out of there earlier. "Uh... front pocket of my bag?" She tries, though a moment later she curses as Boxer shakes his head. "Right. Then..." She peers through the small crack in the window and just sees the glint of silver on her crumpled bed. "Shit."

* * *

"You can wear these if you like." Boxer tosses her a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. "I mean, the shirt will be a tent on you, and the shorts will probably become trackies, but they're definitely more comfy than the uniform."

"Cheers." She takes the clothes and moves into the bathroom, scented heavily with that typical Gilette _man _smell. As she removes her uniform, she can't help but glance at her profile in the mirror. At the small, easily missable mound of her stomach. The baby is growing. Making its presence known beneath her skin, stretching out. And despite her apprehension, she likes that. Likes that, despite her earlier feelings of animosity towards it, it still feels comfortable enough to grow. She'd worried about that. Ridiculous worries, really. But she'd spent so many nights worrying that the baby would know how she had felt, what she'd almost done, as though some telepathic link extends between them.

She has to tear herself away from her own reflection. She dresses quickly, though she has to secure a bunch of the shorts at the side with a hair-tie to stop them from falling off her hips. She makes her way out to Boxer's room and finds him changed too and sitting on the edge of his bed, chewing on a muesli bar. When he sees her, he gives a mocking wolf-whistle and pats the bed beside her. "Come on, Princess. Got a muesli bar for you too. And I texted Lib. She said she'd be back on base in an hour - she just had to get a script filled at the chemist." He takes a bite of his bar and chews it thoughtfully. "Wouldn't it be ironic if she was getting the pill." He heaves a heavy sigh. "You know, it took me a while to actually put the symptoms together."

Kate shifts awkwardly. "I mean, I'd been trying to hide it." She admits.

"Oh, no." He shakes his head and cracks his usual smile. "Nah, you're a shit actor, McGregor. I just didn't think anyone would ever root you." He bumps her lightly with a shoulder, and she can't help but laugh along with him. He's always been good at that - at making her laugh even when her world was ending.

"Thanks." She tips her head, peeling the wrapper from the muesli bar. "You know, it _was_ an accident."

"You accidentally got a dick stuck in you?" Boxer questions, a look of sarcastic confusion upon his face.

"You're hilarious." Kate shakes her head, picking a sultana from the muesli bar. "No. I meant... I was on the pill." She doesn't know why exactly she feels the need to tell him this. Maybe because she doesn't want him thinking it was pure stupidity that had put her into this situation. A need for him to know that she _had _been careful.

"So who is the poor bastard?" He says the words jokingly enough, though she can tell by his posture that he really feels a need to know.

"He's..." She knows she can't name him, even if she trusts Boxer completely. "He's just a guy." Kate exhales. "A nameless, unimportant guy I met."

"Right." He nods tersely. "Is that what got you so distracted today?"

Kate hesitates for a moment, then digs in her bag for the letter and holds it out. "My mother sent me this." She turns the envelope over in her hands, glancing at the single word on the back of it. _Mum. _"I haven't heard from her in years. She... she left when I had just turned seventeen."

"That's shit." He muses.

She has to laugh, not because it's funny, but because it's such a _Boxer _summation to make. "Yeah." She agrees. "Yeah, it is shit."

"So... I guess that's not exactly helping you with the life-sucker growing in you."

"Not really, no." For a moment, she stares. Then, as though she can't stop herself anymore, she tears the envelope open and hands the note to Boxer. "Just... just tell me. If it's more shitty excuses then... then I don't want it, okay? Can you..."

He hesitates for a moment, then nods solemnly and unfolds the letter. She watches, anxiously, as his eyes scan the words, as though she can deduce what message Donna had left her just by the expressions on his face. But it remains impassive. Then, without warning, he speaks aloud. "_To my precious Katie. I know you've always hated me calling you Katie, but I've always loved the name. And I have always loved you, even if I haven't ever been the mother you deserve. There are no words that I could ever write to justify or excuse the damage and hurt I inflicted on you, but if you could ever find it in your heart to allow me a second chance at being a presence in your life, I would be over the moon. __I have attached a number you can reach me on, if you feel you want to call. __I want to find a way to try if you do too. If not, I understand. I was too selfish and bitter to fully appreciate that I wasn't dealing with my pain but simply passing it onto you. I am so sorry, my darling girl. No matter what happens, I love you so much, and I wish you nothing but happiness. Love Mum." _

She doesn't cry. Maybe she's cried too many tears to form any more. She simply tugs at her dog-tags, mind ticking over. "Right." She says, more to break the silence than any real need of conversation. "That's that, then." She murmurs, taking the letter back and stuffing it into her bag.

"Kate?" Boxer tries tentatively. "Do you want to talk?"

"What if being a mother is just not in my DNA?" She murmurs. She doesn't consciously say the words. Instead, they seem to spill from some distant-locked-away part of herself.

"Whoa." Boxer shifts, until he's sitting next to her, wrapping an arm around her. "Now where's the can-do Kate McGregor attitude I've come to know so well? Hey? This isn't you! I have watched you shimmy up a rope, and win an arm wrestle against Tommo. I've seen you score one-hundred-percent on three exams in a row. I've seen you stay up all night and still have energy to smash me at PT. Being a Mum? You're caring, you're funny, and... somewhat patient. What more could any kid need?" He scuffs at the concrete with his foot. "I suppose I don't have to tell you that you don't need to be a mother if you don't want to."

"I know." She rakes a hand through her hair. "I just don't know. I don't..." She twists her hands angrily. "Can we just watch a movie? Please?"

* * *

They're halfway through watching a Simpsons rerun when Libby knocks on the door with a speed more akin to a jackhammer than a human hand. "It's me!" She declares before either Boxer or Kate have reacted, and topples over the threshold as soon as Boxer pulls the door open. If it had been any other time, Kate would have expected Libby to make some wry comment about Kate lying on Boxer's bed and wearing his clothes. However, she looks too frantic to take in very much at all, cheeks flushed and hair flying around her face.

"Shit, Kate, I am _so_ sorry! I had to get a refill of my meds and go to the doctors and it seemed like every bloody school kid and their ten snotty siblings were before me. I didn't realise I'd run out til this morning and that was the only appointment I could get so I totally just ran off after class but I am so _so_ sorry and-"

"Lib, calm down!" Kate interjects, pushing herself to her feet too and holding her hand up to stop her. "It's not your fault I'm an idiot and locked myself out."

Libby shakes her head, seeming to wave away Kate's apology. "No, but you'd had a totally shit day anyway and I didn't stay and..." She takes a deep breath, as though forcing herself to calm down, before speaking again. "Are you okay? I was so worried about you when you didn't show for class! What happened?"

"I got... distracted." Kate glances sideways at Boxer for a moment, and she's not quite sure whether she's willing him to jump in and explain for her, or whether she's urging him to keep her secret for her. He gives her a suitably confused look and Kate sighs, turning to Lib. "Look, Mr O told me that Donna... Donna is trying to get back in touch."

"Shit." Libby sinks onto the edge of Boxer's bed, raising her eyebrows. Kate half-expects Boxer to make some comment about her making herself at home, but instead he just moves past them, digs in his drawer, and drops a packet of lollies in between them. "Bitch has got some nerve." Libby muses, absently taking a snake lolly and biting its head off, before clapping a hand over her mouth. "Sorry. Totally shit thing to say. Just ignore me." She turns to Boxer. "Thanks heaps for looking after her 'til I got back, Boxer."

"I'm not a puppy." Kate points out, a little irritated that Libby thought it necessary for her to be assigned a babysitter. She takes a lolly too, stretching it absently as long as it will go.

"Well, I know you've not been well and..." She hesitates for a moment, as though unsure if Kate will get offended, before shrugging and carrying on, "...and Box said you weren't feeling too well this arvo. So don't get mad but I've booked you a doctor's appointment for tomorrow so we can get some answers and-"

"Libby, I know what's wrong with me." Kate cuts in, closing her eyes. Suddenly, the dull light of the television set seems like a spotlight.

"No, you don't!" Libby protests, slapping a hand against her leg. "You can't keep saying that you're tired or not hungry or stressed. You shouldn't be falling asleep all through the day and you certainly shouldn't be throwing up all the time. I think something is wrong with you, Kate, and-"

"-Lib-"

"-we need to figure out what-"

"I'm pregnant!" The words come out louder than she'd intended. And Kate has never seen Libby this silent. From the way that she'd been speaking, Kate knows that Libby has been worrying about her for a while, perhaps fearing diagnoses of horrible, crippling illnesses or debilitating diseases. But not this. Never this.

"What?" Libby's voice is barely a whisper as she lifts a shaking hand to her mouth. "You..." Libby glances at Boxer, as though expecting him to suddenly clap his hands together and congratulate himself and Kate on a prank well played. But when he doesn't, Libby turns back to Kate.

"That's why I've been off lately. And... and disappearing and not eating and... and not drinking when we go out. It's... it's why I've been so secretive. I'm pregnant, Libby." The words are almost an apology. And maybe they should be. After all, Kate has put Libby through so much these last few months. Too much.

Libby turns her gaze to Boxer, hand still over her mouth. "You knew?"

"I guessed. After you spoke to me today and asked me to keep an eye on her." He admits.

Libby shakes her head, as though ridding her ears of water. "Well, don't I feel like a shit detective."

"I should have told you." Kate begins.

"I should have guessed." Libby counters. "You're my best friend, and we live together and..." She sniffs, and Kate realises that Libby is crying for her. For a moment, Libby just sits, hands over her face. Then, she seems to recover. "Well, it's all the more reason to see a doctor. Uh, if you've been this ill then it could be a sign that your blood pressure is off. And they can help you... decide, you know?"

"I couldn't go through with the abortion, Lib. I tried."

"Okay, well... well, then you need a good OB/GYN. Ah... we can have a look online tomorrow and... and find a good doctor and... and they'll probably recommend some prenatal vitamins."

"-Lib-"

"We can look into classes and... and chat with someone about adoption, I guess, if that's something you're thinking about. Maybe the OB will know-"

"Libby, can you just stop making plans for a moment!" Kate shouts, her voice cracking. "Please, I... I just need you to stop."

Libby nods shakily. "Okay." She leans forward and reaches for Kate's hand. "Well... what do you need?"

"I... I don't know." Kate admits. That was the damned problem. She just wanted someone to take the decision away from her.

"I'm here, Kate." Libby looks at Boxer, who nods, and there seems to be an unspoken declaration between the two of them. Voice stronger, Libby turns back to Kate and squeezes her hand. "We're both here for you, no matter what."


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh no!" Kate stops dead in her doorway as she pulls the door open and spies Boxer leaning casually against a pole just outside. "No!" He looks unsurprised by her reaction, simply giving a flourishing wave fit for a court jester greeting his royal servent and holds out a paper bag.

"Breakfast fit for a Princess." He declares, rustling the paper when she fails to take it. "Plain croissant, or, if you're feeling particularly adventurous this fine Saturday morning, I've included an apple pie." He accompanies the spiel with an exaggerated wink, before eyeing her appearance. "Have you got a jacket in that bag, Princess? Because it will probably get a little chilly if we're walking in the shade." He adds, as he looks up and down Kate's figure. Kate, who is dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, crosses her arms. Libby, by contrast, is in a singlet and shorts.

"Seriously?" She challenges, gesturing to the grounds. "It's not forecast to drop below twenty. And you _don't _need to come today!"

"I've packed one for her." Libby chimes, tugging a sleeve of a cardigan momentarily from her bag for Boxer's benefit before replacing it smoothly.

"Might I remind you I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself?" Kate prompts, still crossing her arms.

"Well, you didn't figure out how to dress parts of a man's appendage and here we are." Boxer mutters. Libby slaps him across the chest. "Ow! Joke! Geez!" He rubs the spot where her hand had hit for a moment, before eyeing Libby's bag once more. "Have you got water for her? She's supposed to drink water for clearer results before the ultrasound."

Libby taps the side of her bag. "Yeah, it's in here too. And I've got some sunscreen just in case we get caught outside for too long."

"I don't need chaperones." Kate tries again, but Libby ignores her, talking to Boxer again.

"And I'm not sure how traffic will be getting through The Cross, so maybe we should head off soon. What do you reckon?"

"Yeah. I've got Tommo's car for the day so at least we won't have to catch a bus, but I'm not too confident on parking. Did you manage to find any info about that online-"

"Hello?!" Kate waves her hands madly in the air. "Have I gone invisible? Cone of silence?"

"Oh, come on!" Libby locks the door behind her and links her arm with Kate, pulling her onwards. "We already know what you're going to say." She adopts a higher, more obnoxious sounding tone that Kate is certain sounds nothing like herself. _"You don't need to come. I'll be perfectly fine by myself. I can get the bus." _

_"I can dress myself."_ Boxer chimes in, adopting a high-pitched voice himself as he moves along beside them. _"You have to unplug the toaster before you stick a fork into it to retrieve your hamburger bun." _

"I saved your life." Kate mutters darkly under her breath.

"I didn't want to go out a pussy." Boxer shrugs, leading the way towards the naval car park. "So, we're coming with you, your own personal royal entourage. Just..." He dashes towards the door of a white Jackaroo and opens the passenger door for her. "...sit. Relax. _Eat._" He flicks a finger pointedly against the paper bag. "And stop your whinging."

* * *

"Fucking hell. That poster's pretty freaky, hey?" Boxer mutters as he nods towards that same damned cross-section poster that has haunted Kate for weeks. She can't help but crack a smile at his words. The chairs are slightly too small even for Kate's petite figure, and Boxer looks practically gigantic seated next to her by comparison. He has to stretch his legs out far in front of himself, but pull them in every time someone wants to walk past him. "I mean... l just..." He makes an 'O' with his fingers, before stretching the hand out with a horrified expression.

"Careful. People will think you've never been near a vagina." Libby warns, reaching past Boxer and seizing one of the magazines next to him.

Boxer exchanges a pained expression with Kate, but she can only shrug and offer a somewhat reassuring smile.

"Geez, I've never seen that before!" Libby exclaims suddenly from her other side, and Kate whips around, looking fearful.

"What?!" She demands, looking around the waiting room. But Libby's gaze is fixed firmly on the magazine in front of her.

"A magazine quiz in a waiting room with an untouched crossword puzzle." Libby murmurs, tipping the page so that Kate can see. She fishes about in her bag and begins filling in boxes, every few clues stopping and turning to Kate. "_Born Frederick Austerlitz in 1899, this entertainer was at home in a Top Hat!_ 2 Words. Four letters and seven." She nudges Kate lightly with an elbow. "Oh, come on, Kate. You love old movies!"

Loathe though she is to admit it, she does know the answer. "Fred Astaire." She mutters, before turning to Boxer, only to find that he too is engaged in a magazine.

He lowers it when he catches her looking and adopts a look of shock. "Kate, this magazine has the inside scoop on the wedding of Lady Diana Spencer and Prince Charles!"

"Katie McGregor." A voice calls out, and Kate pushes herself to her feet.

"Dear God, yes." She mutters, moving forwards, resigned to meet yet another doctor. This one is older, looking more like a stern librarian rather than a doctor in her knitted cardigan and heavy glasses. To her surprise, though, the woman nods in the direction of Boxer and Libby, who have both half-risen with Kate.

"Doctor Karen Brenkhoffe. These two coming along as well?" She asks.

And Kate heaves a heavy sigh, the corners of her lips curling as Boxer knocks his shin against the small coffee table in his haste to move. "I doubt you'd be able to stop them."

* * *

"So, Doc, can you tell yet what she's having?" Libby asks as soon as they're sat in the examination room, practically bouncing on the edge of her seat like an overexcited toddler. "'Cos I totally think it's a little boy but Boxer reckons girl and-"

"Well, first things first, I do have to confirm a few details... take some blood and perform a bit of an examination before we head on through to the ultrasound. Ah," She frowns at Libby sitting next to Kate. "Perhaps you should swap seats with Dad?" She suggests, nodding at Boxer who is standing further back, leaning against the door.

"Oh, he's not-" Kate begins, but Boxer grins.

"-going to _miss _a moment of this, _am I, _my little Sugar Cake?" He moves forward and pinches Kate's cheek lightly, while Libby stands up, giggling unashamedly.

"This is why I wanted to catch the bus." Kate mutters through gritted teeth, throwing off the arm Boxer places around her arm.

For a moment he adopts a haunted look, clapping a hand to his chest. "Are you saying we're through?!" He exclaims. "I took you back after you slept with my father!"

"Please, just... pretend like they're not here." Kate begs of Doctor Brenkhoffe, eyes wide.

"We're sorry." Boxer squeezes Kate's shoulder lightly for a moment. "I was joking. Just trying to do what I can to make this... easier? But..." He pales at the glare from Dr Brenkhoffe and seems to shrink slightly. "...uh, we'll be quiet." He fidgets awkwardly, his sneakers squeaking on the ground, but mutters. "It was my grandfather she slept with, actually."

"I can have them removed if you'd prefer." Dr Brenkhoffe confides coldly, eyeing Boxer up and down as though he was something disgusting that Kate had brought in on her shoe.

"No, I... I'd like them to stay, if that's okay? He's going to stop cracking jokes, _okay_?" She directs the last word at Boxer, who mimes zipping his mouth solemnly. Libby has to stuff her fist into her mouth to stop her laughter.

While the doctor doesn't look as though she particularly approves of this plan, she shrugs lightly and moves on. "Now, we did get some records faxed over from Macquarie Street Clinic, but as several of the scans done there are more about assessing the viability of a pregnancy and less about assuring everything will be okay moving forwards in that regard, we're going to be doing our own ultrasound scan and just confirming a few things like your estimated due date and such. So, I have a few questions."

"Right." Kate nods, and her only consolation is that, however embarrassed she's feeling right now, Boxer will be feeling ten times worse.

* * *

"The term _cervical mucus _is one I never want to _ever _hear again." Boxer declares as, twenty minutes later, Kate finds herself lying back on the chair in the ultrasound room. Boxer is leaning against the wall once again, while Libby has chosen to take the seat next to Kate and already has her gaze fixed on the screen, even though it has not yet even been turned on. "Let it be known I learned things today I can't unlearn."

"I've got to admit, that in there with Dr Scary Grandma-" Libby jabs a finger in the direction of the examination room where the doctor had spoken to them all, "-is totally better contraception than anything I've ever used before. I mean, that conversation about tearing-"

"Stooooop!" Boxer begs, actually clapping his hands over his ears in anguish. "There are things a man doesn't need to know in his life!"

Kate clicks her tongue, even though she can't exactly pretend she's unaffected by the consultation. "Well, I told you both-"

"_you didn't need to come!"_ Boxer and Libby both chorus in unison, just as the door opens once more and a technician in bright scrubs moves to the machine. She looks a great deal cheerier than Dr Brenkhoffe had, and flashes them all a wide, metallic smile as she enters. "You know," Libby continues, turning thoughtfully back to Kate. "I reckon, every time you say something like that, I'm gonna teach this kid one swear word when it's born."

She's saved the trouble of retorting as the technician smiles at them all once again. "Right, Kate, I'm Gabby, and I'm going to be performing your ultrasound today. Should just be a standard ultrasound just to make sure that everything is as it should be and to estimate a due date. Any questions?" Kate shakes her head. "Right, if I could get you to just raise your shirt, and I'm going to squirt some gel. It's going to be a bit cold, I'm afraid."

"It's fine." Kate assures her, as Libby stands on tiptoe to get a better view, eyes wide in fascination.

"I can't believe I didn't realise you were knocked up." Libby muses aloud, as she eyes Kate's middle. "You've got a little bump."

The gel lets out a loud, wet noise as Gabby squirts it onto Kate's belly. "Ooh, sounds like you when you snore." Boxer quips.

"Remember, I know how to use a gun." Kate murmurs in a sugary-sweet voice. "I swear, if you keep bugging me-" But she cuts herself off, as a whooshing, pounding sound fills the room.

"One strong heartbeat." Gabby tells them, and Kate forgets everything else.

* * *

Afterwards, they walk along the streets, sunglasses over their eyes as they search idly for somewhere to eat. If she'd had it her way, they'd have returned to base straight afterwards to get some revision done, but Libby had insisted on lunch first, so now Kate found herself being dragged past cafe after cafe.

"I've told you, you guys decide!" Kate moans, stooping for a moment to fix her shoelace. "I've just eaten a croissant. I'm not that hungry."

"Well, you might not be, but your little bastard probably is, so what are they after?" He moves closer, eyes narrowed. "Come on. Pick something or I will embarrass the shit out of you."

"You do that on the daily." Kate points out, huffing so hard that strands of hair fly from in front of her face. Knowing that it was far from an idle threat, however, she throws her hands in the air. "Garlic sauce." She growls. "Okay? We want garlic sauce."

"Kebabs it is!" Boxer declares victoriously, dragging her towards a shopfront with meat rotisseries visible from the street. "Now was that so hard?"

* * *

"Do you think seagulls are racist?" Libby muses from nowhere as sit munching on kebabs. The inside of the shop had been stiflingly hot, the air thick with chip fat and steam, so they'd taken their food to go and found a spot on the grass outside the MCA in the shade of the building.

"Uh, where did that come from?" Kate frowns at the completely random question.

By way of answer, Libby points in the direction of the wharves. Kate doesn't have to look far to figure out what Libby is pointing at. Just outside the ice cream corner stall , where a woman is shrieking. "I have watched five seagull food heists in the time that we've been here, and every victim has been Asian." Kate follows her gaze just in time to see a seagull swoop and steal another man's food - this one, to the naked eye at least, looking apparently Australian. "Huh." Libby shrugs lamely. "Well, I guess that kind of destroyed my theory. But I swear, I've been watching this whole time."

"Could just be an outlier in your data." Boxer suggests thoughtfully. "Shit." A piece of onion has fallen from his kebab. He flicks it from his shorts, rubbing lightly at the slightly greasy BBQ sauce mark left behind. "Aww, dang, these were me goin' out pants!" He declares in an exaggerated tone, clicking his finger.

"Crap!" Libby mutters suddenly, scrabbling in her bag for her phone. "Oh crap crap crap!"

"Truth be told, Olivia, I do have other pants." Boxer begins tentatively. Libby waves away his words.

"Not that!" Libby curses. "And don't call me Olivia!" She adds as an afterthought. She glances at her phone and scrunches her nose up. "Shit. I totally forgot it's my mother's birthday." She stands, wrapping her kebab up in its foil bag and dropping it on top of her bag. "Are you two right if I just call home for a bit. Dad will never let me live it down if I forget."

Boxer tips his head. "Eh, Kate's already pregnant. Can't do much else to cause mischief."

Kate elbows him in a routine sort of way, even though his comment doesn't really bother her. It was the principle of the matter. "Say hi to her for me."

"Will do!" Libby agrees, before moving off towards the wharves.

"Why is it that women always have to walk around when they're on the phone?" Boxer queries aloud as they both watch Libby chatting animatedly some distance away. "Ma's always done it too. She'd be off wandering around the place, every so often popping up in a different room." He trains off, and for a while they both simply stare out as a ferry docks, enjoying the peace of the day. Kate knows that, soon, they'll have to go back to base and study for their exams beginning the Monday after next, but at the moment, a cool breeze is blowing from the harbour, and the sky is a clear blue, and Kate tries to soak up the tranquility.

"How are you feeling?" Boxer is the one to break the silence between them, turning to face her. "You look a lot healthier. But... but how are you feeling?"

How is she feeling? Kate finds it so hard to figure out herself, these days, at ends with her own indecisiveness. Some moments, like this, she's happy. And others, she's completely overwhelmed by the uncertainty of her future, and the timebomb ticking away inside of her. "I'm... I'm better." She begins, which is at least the truth. She waits for some teasing comment, perhaps about how it must be his presence, but Boxer says nothing, so she continues. "Having you and Libby... well, I guess it's a relief that it's not just my secret now. That it's not just me dealing with my demons."

"Yeah." Boxer nods. "I found that myself, when you..." He trails off awkwardly.

"Have you..." She hesitates, unsure of whether she's overstepping or not. They've never spoken about his secret. Not since the night she'd found out. But he has been here for her and she... she wants to be here for him. "Have you spoken to any-"

"No." He interjects tersely. He seems to realise how tense he sounds though, because he clears his throat and speaks again. "You're the only one. Unless..." He looks towards the wharves and Libby.

"I didn't tell her." Kate answers his unasked question. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Right." He nods, as though they've just settled a business deal or something. "Um... thanks."

"You know I'm... I'm here. If you ever want to-"

"I'm good. I... I don't..."

"It's okay." Kate rests a hand on his for a moment. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'm here."

He glances up at her, and nods gratefully. "Yeah. Thanks." It strikes Kate that, aside from that one night years ago, they'd never really had a serious conversation. No. Their friendship had always been lighthearted. Supportive, but teasing. And the shift into this more responsible side of things seems to have completely blindsided them both. "Uh... have you..." He clears his throat once more and tries again. "Have you had any more thoughts about... about after, when it's born?"

"I..." She stalls for time by taking another bite of her kebab, even though she's getting quite full by now. And she finds herself wondering if maybe this conversation is the most tentative and awkward exchange in history. When she can put it off no longer, she fixes her gaze on her shoes. "I guess some. I... I was looking into adoption." The words are tinged in shame, but she can't lie to Boxer. After all, now they both knew each others' secrets, and kept them. But she can't shake the feeling that adoption seems a lot like abandonment. A lot like Donna.

"So you're not going to keep it then?" There's no judgement in his words, no anger or disappointment, and she draws comfort from it.

She drops the rest of her kebab back into its bag and busies herself sealing it. "What have I got to offer a kid, hey? I mean," She ticks off each point with her fingers. "No family, a job that means I'll always be moving, and that's only _if _I can get a job after this. I have no skills, barely any savings and nowhere to live. There's no guarantee I could get a shore posting to support myself and..." She wraps a hand around her middle for a moment. "And I'd be all this kid had." She picks at a loose thread on her jeans. "I'm not enough. I'm... I'm damaged goods."

"You, Kate McGregor, are a lot of things. But damaged goods is definitely not one of them." He hesitates for a moment, as though he's choosing his words very carefully. "Kate, we'll support you, no matter what you choose. And if adoption is the choice you make then... then we'll help you find the best damn parents for it. But... in your heart of hearts, is that really what you want?"

She looks around for a moment, and realises that she can't lie to him. Can't pretend that she hasn't been walking around the city and imagined one day showing it to her child. Can't pretend that she hadn't seen that grainy ultrasound image and thought it undeniably hers. Her eyes follow a woman walking by, pushing a pram. Could she ever do that?

Her silence seems to speak for her. "You know..." Boxer begins tentatively, and she can tell just how carefully he's considering each and every word. He'll never push her into any decision. "You've got a life growing inside of you. And... and whether you decide it's yours or simply yours to help it find its family, you're not alone. It's you and the baby, already, entwined and connected. And... regardless of what you choose, you won't ever be alone. You've got me Libby and me. We're mates, Kate. We stick together. No matter what."

She considers the weight of his words for a moment, and they seem to fill her like sunshine. But she still can't shake that fear, that storm cloud lurking on the horizon. "But it won't be you." She murmurs softly.

Boxer frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Her hand goes to her dog tags, like it always does when she's stressed. "You and Libby... sooner or later you'll be posted away. Different bases, different ships. And... and regardless of how great you guys have been... it won't be you. Won't be you alone, up all night with a screaming kid. It won't be you who everyone talks about... Princess Perfect who screwed up her career and... and threw away her promise because she got knocked up. It'll be me. My life that is put on hold. It'll be _me _there, day in and day out." She can't look at him. Can't bring herself to see the pity in his gaze. "I know that... that it's the sacrifice I'd have to make. And I could put up with all of that if I truly believed I could be a mother. But... this thing is precious and fragile and... and I'm not sure I can do this by myself."

Boxer tugs a tuft of grass from in front of him, and twirls it in his fingers. "What if you didn't?" He croaks.

"What?"

"What if it wasn't just you?"

There's no way she can explain how many times she's dreamed that she was actually doing this with Mike. No way to ever put a simple number to the amount of times her mind has drifted, or the _what ifs _that have flitted through her brain. But it was impossible. Even if she had told him, even if he had wanted to be involved, it would signal the end of their Naval careers. There was no way he could publicly acknowledge paternity, not without ending both of their careers. Fraternisation was fraternisation, regardless of the timeframe. "I... I told you," Kate tears herself away from thoughts of Mike, because she needs to separate him from this child. "The father, he's not-"

"That's not what I meant." Boxer interjects, turning to her. "We could get married, Kate."

He says it, as if he's suggested something as simple as getting ice cream. And she sits, frowning at him, waiting for the punchline, because surely he's joking. When he does nothing but continue to look at her, though, she splutters. "What?"

"Oh, come on. Why is that so crazy?" He turns back to the water once more, and the path in front of them, people bustling by. Mothers and fathers and kids. Families. "We could get married. I could be this kid's father and... and we could raise this kid together, give it a proper family. Then... then you wouldn't be alone, ever. The Navy would have to keep us together. And I could be here. For... for both of you."

The weight of what he is suggesting hits her. She drops her dog tags. "Boxer-"

"Just... just think about it! I mean... we're friends. We've known each other for years. It's not like we're strangers. You can still have a career and this kid..."

"But..." She doesn't even know where the start. "But I can't let you do that! I mean... giving up your life just because-"

"What life?!" He throws a hand to the water. "The Navy _is _my life, just like it's yours! We do this and neither one of us miss out on that!"

"But you're not in love with me."

"Neither's he." Boxer's words hit like a slap in the face, and Kate actually recoils. And for a moment, they both stare at each other. Then he claps a hand to his mouth. "Shit, Kate, I didn't mean... I just..." He glances around, as though looking around for eavesdroppers. But Libby is still on the phone, and it's just the two of them, together, in a sea of strangers. "Look, you... you might be the only person that really knows... _me. _And... and why I'm never going to marry any other girl. I'm... I'm never going to have a family or-"

"Dammit, just because you're gay, doesn't mean you're never going to have that!" She doesn't know why she's so angry all of a sudden. He flinches at the word though, the word that they've never spoken between them, and looks away ashamedly. As soon as it had come, she feels her anger abating. "Look... you could find a nice guy and start a family-"

"And then my career is over." Boxer finishes bluntly.

Kate shakes her head sadly. "I don't believe that! It's... it's not the fifties anymore! Gay, straight, nobody cares! You're the most popular guy in the class-"

"Because the only person in the world that knows my secret puts up with me flirting with her to help me cover up." He drags a hand through his hair. "Kate, I want to be a medic. I want to save lives. You think anyone will be jumping for joy to have a fag medic on the ship?"

She knocks her drink bottle over as she spins around to better look at him. "Don't! Don't call yourself that."

"Why not? It's what I am. A faggot. A poof." He looks disgusted as he spits out the words. She can't bear to see him like that.

"So... what? You'll lock who you are away and trap yourself in a loveless marriage rather than be yourself?"

"Oh, come on Kate. It's hardly loveless! We both care about each other. And this kid... we both love it." He looks at her, really looks at her, and she believes that he loves her child too. "Kate, I'd rather raise a kid in a house where people love each other than have us both lose everything."

"I..." She doesn't know what to say. What Boxer is offering her is more than a supportive hand. It's a lifeline. And she can't deny she's tempted. But she knows him. "And what about Tommo?"

"What about him?" Boxer ducks his gaze.

"Oh, come on. If we're being honest and sharing secrets, then you might as well share them all. I saw you when you kissed that guy, and... and you were happy. But he was just a guy. But Tommo... he's not, is he?" She sees him bite his lip and knows that what she's suspected for a long time is correct. "I've seen the way you look at him. You're in love with Tommo. And... and part of you is scared to come out because you're scared you'll lose him too."

For a moment, he looks as though he's going to protest. Then something in him seems to slacken and he shakes his head. "Alright. So I'm in love with him." He turns to look at Kate, a fierce determination in his gaze. "I've known him for six years. And I would rather have him in my life as a best friend than to not have him at all. He's straight. _Normal. _He doesn't feel the same way as me. And... and the pain of losing the person you love..." He trails off.

Kate absorbs his words for a moment. Then she nods slowly. "I understand. It's not... it's not my call or anyone else's to decide if or when you come out to the world. And... and I get it. Loving someone and knowing that you can never have them... it's torture, isn't it?" Her hand brushes her swollen stomach once more. And she feels like she owes it to him, to know. To know just what web of lies marrying her would entail. "The baby's father... it's Mike."

"Mike?" The name seems to completely throw him. For a moment, Boxer frowns at her. "I don't know a Mike."

"Yeah, you do." Kate murmurs, turning back to the water. And she waits. Waits for the penny to drop. Waits for her last secret to be revealed to him.

It takes a bit. But he realises. "Flynn?!" Boxer's hand grips her arm. "You fucked Flynn?! And... and that's why he's been strutting around like a peacock on heat? Fl- oh, _shit, _Kate."

She gives a wry smile and nods to her belly once more. "Yep. _Shit._" The word just about sums up her situation. "I never wanted you or anyone else to suffer for my stupidity." She murmurs. "And now I've got the fate of someone else's life in my hands. This poor kid that isn't even born yet. And you..." She shakes her head softly. "What you're offering me is... is incredible. But..."

"But you can't." He finishes for her, nodding. "I know." He bumps her lightly with his shoulder. "You're too proud and stubborn and strong for that. Stronger than you know, Kate."

"So are you." Kate murmurs. And she closes her eyes against the brilliant sunshine, and rests her head on his shoulder. "So are you."

* * *

_**A/N: **__Sorry everyone lining up for the Kate/Boxer show but I'd always intended for him to be homosexual amongst many other amazing things. Obviously any self depreciating thoughts he has about homosexuality or the attitude of others are entirely his own and I don't mean any offense to anyone else.I will continue to explore his arc and in the words of Cosima Niehaus '___my sexuality is not the most_ interesting thing about me'. I love Boxer though and hope you all do too!  
_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: **__Sorry guys, it's been a long time in the making. I'm going to be moving forwards a bit, because this story is already way longer than I thought it would be. This might be the first story I've actually tried to plan out, and I'm writing bits here, there and everywhere! I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who's even glanced at this story, and an extra special thank you to everyone who's taken the time to review. My emotions have been everywhere lately, I've been really up and down with my depression, but everyone's words and feedback mean more than you all could ever know, and this story is definitely my escape at the moment. _

_I hope no matter where you are, whether you're working or shut up in an apartment, that everyone stays safe, happy and healthy. I work in child care, and we're exploring the Rainbow Trail, which is just an initiative with the intent on spreading joy, happiness and positivity through these uncertain times. I'm not expecting you all to paint chalk rainbows, but try to look out for each other. As Dolly Parton said, if you see someone without a smile, give them one of yours. _

_And please, please, **please, **look after yourselves. Reach out for help if you need it. No one is ever alone, even though it feels like that sometimes. Love you all!_

* * *

It's almost as if Boxer and Libby are waiting for Kate to break down, but Kate finds that she's actually surprisingly calm. Of course, she's panicking about exams like the rest of them, but the memory of her baby's heartbeat acts as a sort of talisman as Kate carries herself through the last week of lessons and into their exams. And she fills in each of her exam papers, a fierce determination burning inside of her, beating along with the baby's heart.

She keeps the pictures from the sonogram tucked away in her top drawer, though she finds herself sneaking glances whenever she can, tracing a finger along its outline and drawing comfort from the image. And, hell, she doesn't feel like a mother, but she's going to be a Lieutenant - of this she is certain, and she focuses every ounce of her determination into studying hard so that, one day, she might actually make this kid proud.

_His_ exam is last though, like fate has planned it purely to avoid an anticlimactic season finale in this series of episodes she's calling her life. And it's this, perhaps, that brings out her restlessness.

"Kate, get some sleep." Libby grumbles, and Kate sets down her notes guiltily, as though she's just been caught doing something illegal. It's past 0200, but Kate's mind won't shut down. Every time she closes her eyes, she finds her head swimming with so much information and definitions and strategies that she can't shut down. And no matter how hard she tries to stop herself, she'll run over all the information she knows until she inevitably finds that _one _tiny piece of information that makes her doubt what she knows, and she'll have to turn on her torch and look at her notes again. "You'll drive yourself crazy. And me."

"Sorry. Sorry." Kate clicks the torch off again and forces herself to lay back down, even though she hadn't been able to find the particular piece of information she'd been looking for. "I just can't shut down."

"Me neither, if I'm honest." Libby admits, and Kate hears the rustling of blankets as her roommate moves. "It doesn't feel real, hey? One more exam and then we're done."

"Nope." Kate sighs heavily. Tomorrow - _today, _she corrects herself - she will face Mike for the last time.

The last time.

The finality scares her. Not just for herself, and the fantasy life she's tried to stop herself - unsuccessfully - from drifting off to in quiet moments. But for him too. Because she knows what he will miss out on, even if he doesn't. Adding to this is the uncertainty of her own emotions. She's been a tangle of hormones of late, breaking down at the most random of things. In fact, Libby had teased her only hours ago from sobbing as she read about the processes involved in ditching a catch, and her cheeks burn in the darkness as she recalls weeping for all those poor fish slaughtered for no good reason. A crowded examination hall is hardly the place to break down in, much less one at ADFA, where she's in the company of hundreds of sailors and high ranking officers.

And then... Mike Flynn will go back to _Hammersley, _his dream. And she will go...

Where, for the moment, she doesn't know.

Her last posting had been in Darwin, but the apartment she'd so infrequently lived in is no longer hers, the small amount of meager possessions she's acquired over the years either in storage, or else boxed up in the Olinsky's back shed. And she knows that they would have her stay in a heartbeat, but her own pride has filed that away as a definite last resort. If she was going to do this (and she was still most definitely unsure of that decision) then she was going to do it herself.

She wasn't going to burden them with the weight of her own stupidity. Not when they'd done so much for her already.

"Kate..." Libby begins again, and Kate can tell by her tone what the conversation will be about. She's using the same tentative tone that she always uses when she's broaching a delicate topic. Kate says nothing, but hum lightly, and Libby continues. "Kate... I know you said you weren't going to tell him. But... but maybe he deserves to know."

She's thought the same thing. Sometimes. And other times she remembers how he'd spoken to her... what he'd accused her of. "He doesn't want anything to do with me, Libby." Kate murmurs. He had made things perfectly clear that the Navy was his only love. Adding this moral dilemma into his life would serve no purpose.

He'd avoided her like the plague this last fortnight, immersing himself in conversation with the nearest person whenever they ran into each other in the corridors, and avoiding her gaze during their final lessons the previous week. Libby sighs deeply. "It's his ego, Kate. Nothing more."

Kate lets out a derisive laugh, even though there's nothing very funny. And maybe she could have believed that a couple of weeks before. But not now. Not after what he had said in the aftermath of their last argument. "Lib, he thinks I slept with him to further my career."

"What?!" Libby actually sits up. Kate spies her outline from the thin shaft of moonlight coming through the window. "He said that?!"

"He saw me with Mr O. After he gave me Donna's letter. He accused me of sleeping with him. Oh, and Boxer." Her hands twist her blankets into knots. "He doesn't think any of it was real."

Was it real? She's finding it harder and harder to remember these days, her feelings about him tainted by the disgusted look he'd thrown her during their last argument, the things that he had accused her of. The Mike that she had remembered from their time together would have never accused her of that. But now she's coming to realise that she never knew the real Mike. And now, he was split into two distinct versions in her head. The Mike that she had loved, the one her memories had immortalised, idolised, raised up to angelic heights. And then the other. The cruel, bitter bastard who she'd had to deal with during her time at Watson's. And she knows, realistically, that neither are the true Mike Flynn, that he is just a man, with good traits and bad. But the fact of the matter was that _that _Mike, the _true _Mike was a complete stranger to her.

There's a muffled flump as Libby's feet hit the ground, and before Kate can react, light floods their little room. Illuminated by her lamplight, Libby's face twisted in fury, and Kate watches as she fumbles for a jacket, seemingly preparing for immediate action.

Kate pushes herself from her own bed, hindered slightly by her recent need to be cocooned in her sheets. She struggles for a moment, but quickly frees herself and sits up. "Libby, what are you-"

"You should have told me before!" Libby mutters angrily, zipping her jacket over the top of the _Killing Heidi _concert shirt that she used as a sleep shirt. "I'm going to go over there and show that arsehole-"

"No you're not!" Kate reaches out to grab Libby's arm, but she leaps backwards out of Kate's grip. Torn between alarm and anger, Kate tosses her hair from her face. "Seriously, Libby!"

"You think I'm going to let him speak to you like that?!" Libby demands, hands on her hips. "You know, you sure can pick 'em, Kate! You always fall for the pricks-"

"You don't think I know that?!" Kate hisses, aware that they're making way too much noise than is socially acceptable for the middle of the night. "Libby, please! Just... once more. And then neither of us ever have to see him again." She steps forward and takes it as a good sign that, this time, Libby doesn't duck out of her reach. "Please, Lib. I've got enough on my mind without _you _getting RNIN'd!"

For a moment, Libby stands, hand on the door handle. Then she seems to slacken. "I'm not doing it for him." She mutters, shrugging her jacket off. "For you, okay?"

"I know." Kate nods, feeling herself relax. "Let's just... just try to get some sleep."

* * *

She gets through the exam.

Just.

She doesn't let herself look at him, as if by merely seeing him, she will unravel. And maybe she will. She doesn't give herself the chance to find out, however, keeping her gaze fixed upon her examination paper as she drafts boarding plans and evaluates courses against tidal charts. She can feel his gaze upon her, against her skin like the ghost of his touch, but each and every time she feels herself tempted to glance at him, she brushes a hand against her middle and reminds herself who she's doing this for. Knowing that it's not just her future at stake helps, helps her separate Mike-here-today from the version of him in her memory, and she answers every damn question on the paper.

Her work, at least, she is confident in. She evaluates each strategy, every possible scenario she can think of, and plans as best she can. And, perhaps, some part of her is eager for him to see that she didn't need to sleep her way up the ladder, to prove her worth.

Libby's mere presence - at the table to her left, alphabetical order working in their favour once more - grounds her too. Her friends have been a pillar of strength, and she draws comfort from them now. They've helped her regain some semblance of self-confidence that had been so lacking since Mike had left, and she knows she can never repay them for it.

* * *

At the end of the two hours, they remain seated as Mike collects their papers. He cracks a joke about how he's probably just as glad as them that the course is over because it means he can go back to _Hammersley, _and there's a relieved laugh from them all. She doesn't laugh, but she doesn't break down either. It's something, at least.

Soon, he will be back on _Hammersley, _his life at risk as he does... whatever he does. And it hits her, suddenly, that he could get shot, attacked, harmed in any number of ways. And she would never know. From this moment on, they will go their seperate ways, never to be involved in each others' lives.

The thought scares her more than she had thought it would.

What will she tell this kid about its father, when it's old enough to ask? Which version of Mike will she describe to her child? Or will the choice be taken from her hands?

It scares her that she might one day read his obituary.

She takes a deep breath, tries to remind herself that he's a captain, that he will remain on his ship, safe, far from any potential harm. But like a child in the middle of the night, it's not the darkness that scares her, but the unknown, the many things that could be hiding in it. The unknown terrifies her.

He moves to her table, and his fingers brush against hers, for the merest trace of a second, as he scoops up her examination paper. In spite of everything she's tried to convince herself of, everything that Libby and Boxer have told her, she feels her heart skip a beat. And as they lock eyes, the moment seems to stretch for eternities and yet, simultaneously, no time at all.

And then, the moment is over, and she tears her gaze away from him, busying herself with collecting her possessions together.

She doesn't look at him again.

* * *

Two hours later, as Kate peels yet another top from herself and drops it to her bed, along with all of the other abandoned shirts, she supposes that, should someone choose to burst into their dorm room at that moment, they might think a bomb has gone off. Their beds are barely visible beneath the steadily growing piles of abandoned clothes, makeup and accessories littering the room. Libby's managed to find a radio from who knows which department, and they'd spent most of their afternoon alternatively dancing along to the music and searching for something to wear that night.

In a complete role-reversal, Libby was dressed and ready to go, and it was Kate who was having trouble choosing what to wear. Kate, who was usually quite content to wear whatever she felt comfortable in, (or failing that, have her outfit chosen for her by Libby, who would treat Kate as her own personal Barbie Doll) was struggling to find something that didn't cling to her steadily growing middle. At least two of her drawers now hang open, completely empty, and their cupboard doors hang open, as though their contents have just exploded from them.

"Lib, help me out." Kate groans, as she turns side on to glance at her profile in the mirror. There's a definite bump now, more noticeable than ever as she stands dressed in her bra and jeans. "Everything I have clings. Do you have anything a little more flowing?"

Libby winces, and Kate knows that loose-and-flowing is not exactly Libby's style of clothing. However, she dutifully begins sifting through the piles of clothing. "You know, now I think about it, your tits have grown too." She supplies, tossing clothes here and there.

"Gee, thanks." Kate laughs sarcastically, glancing at her watch. "Shit! You know we were supposed to be there half an hour ago?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's not just my fault we're late this time." Libby points out, tugging a loose white top from the detritus. "Here. Try this."

Kate obliges, and pulls the loose, flowy white top over her head. Freeing her hair from her neck, she peers critically at herself in the mirror. "Actually, yeah, I like this." She turns to examine her profile side on. "And... it's not..."

"You look perfectly un-pregnant." Libby answers for her, turning back to the room. "So. Makeup?"

* * *

They see Boxer's shirt before they see him, the lurid pink of the shirt easily the most vibrant thing in the room, and Kate actually stops and blinks. Laughing, Libby pulls her onward, and as they move closer Kate is able to see that what she'd originally seen as solid pink was actually hundreds and hundreds of bright pink flamingos patterned across his shirt. "Oh. Oh _wow_." Kate whistles in approval as she approaches him, tapping Boxer on the shoulder. He spins around to face them, beer in hand, and judging by the slightly glassy look in his eyes, it's not his first.

"Finally!" He booms, with an exaggerated flourish of his hands that draws the attention of several of their classmates. "The Royal Procession. What kept you two?!" He gives them both a critical appraisal.

"Oh, come on." Libby bumps Boxer's shoulder lightly and adjusts his collar. "We needed to get all dolled up for you, now, didn't we? _Speaking of which, _that is quite the fancy shirt, Box."

Boxer grins and gives a grand bow in Libby's direction. "Well, it is a special event."

"Plus he lost a bet." Tommo supplies as he approaches them too, smiling at Kate and Libby. "Think he looks fabulous, though, don't you? Drinks?"

"Hey, get me another too?" Boxer calls after him. Tommo acknowledges the request with a lazy wave, and Boxer grins, moving closer to Kate and Libby. "Well, you've missed Tommo's attempt at karaoke, Ri and Macca going head to head in a sculling contest and Jules breaking a heel." He turns to the group at large, holding his arms out wide. "My fellow Lieutenants!" There's an answering cheer from the rest of the group, and even Kate can't resist wooping with the rest of them. "We've worked our bloody arses off, but we made it! It's a time we'll never forget! But with the right drinks, we'll forget tonight! Let's go!"

* * *

Despite being the only sober one there (by a considerable margin, she realises quickly, as everyone seems to be firmly in the spirit of _go hard or go home_), she has a good time. She dances with Lib, Ri and Jules underneath the flashing lights of the dance floor. Laughs with Tommo and Boxer as they crack joke after joke. After Tommo's fifth beer, she and him pool their coins and take on the chocolate claw machine, returning with pockets stuffed full of _Picnic_s and _Time Out_s, and the pair of them spend most of the rest of the night tossing them at their unsuspecting classmates in a game they dub 'Choccy Toss'. They create their own scoring system (Twenty points for head, Fifty for nose, minus ten if they manage to catch it, seventy if you can land it in someone's drink and splash them), the game getting more and more competitive, until a bartender has to come and warn them to settle down or else they'll have to leave.

Not wanting the night to end so soon, she and Tommo respectfully obey, and instead focus their competitive energy on the arcade racing games instead.

At some point, they all decide to head down to the beach. Kate notices quite a few pleased looks being thrown around by the other occupants of the bar, who look relieved to be free of the rowdy group of sailors. In fact, the young bartender looks equally relieved, though slightly conflicted as Boxer tips her $50 on the way out.

In tipsy procession, Kate hovering between Libby and Jules and occasionally offering a steadying hand, they make their way along the path and down to the deserted cove. It's hard to walk - the moon is full, but it's also their only light, and Kate is fairly sure she's the only one at this point that's not seeing double. In fact, she half expects to hear a yelp or a cry of pain any moment, and there's an uncomfortable sense of responsibility, being the only sober one there. Mercifully, though, they make it to the sand without incident, and promptly fan out.

Libby, Ri and Boxer all find somewhere to sit on the sand, but from what Kate can tell, Boxer is intent on making a sand castle, and Jules and two other classmates named Tomas and Alex have sourced a packet of cigarettes from God knows where and are competing to blow the most smoke rings. Kate's glad at least that no one seems intent on swimming; she doesn't quite fancy diving in to rescue anyone tonight.

The breeze washing over them is cool and crisp, but Kate finds herself relishing in the freshness of it all, drawing comfort once more from the waves. From above them, thousands and thousands of stars are visible in the vast inky blackness above them, and Kate feels utterly content.

"Can't believe it's over." Ri muses, lying back on the sand and staring up at the stars above them. She's long since abandoned the backrest she'd been so determinately digging when they'd first arrived, and now lay at a slightly awkward angle. She doesn't look bothered by it though, closing her eyes momentarily. "Doesn't feel real. I keep... keep thinking I shouldn't have a late night 'cause've got PT in the morning." She scoops up a handful of sand in a fist and trickles it out slowly. "Can you imagine how good it's going to feel just... _sleeping_?"

"Heaven." Libby echoes. She is cross-legged upon the beach, sitting on her cardigan so that she doesn't get sand in her shoes. She'd complained loudly about how much she hated sand, but her protests had been shouted down. "I can't imagine not seeing you lot every day but."

"I know." Tommo agrees, clapping Boxer on the back. "Be weird not... not bein' stuck with this clown again."

Kate can't help but examine Boxer's face, searching for some sort of reaction, but Boxer's face remains good natured as he laughs. "Bitch, I'm the best thing that ev' happened to you." She wonders if she'll ever be able to see Mike again, to be that nonchalant and casual. Then she forces herself to think of something else. He was out of her life for good.

"So where are you all hoping t'go after this?" Ri asks the group at large, and Kate turns her attention back to the group, tucking her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. "Anyone applied for anything yet?"

"I've applied for a 'sition on _Diamantina." _Tommo replies, taking a swig of the vodka that has been passed around the group. Kate has no idea where it had come from, but everyone else seemed too drunk to realise that she wasn't partaking. "The opening looked really prom'sing, actually. You?"

"Was hoping for something bit closer to the Olds up North." Ri answers, pointing vaguely upwards. "Applied for a desk job up at Coon-a-wa-rra." She sounds each syllable out carefully, as though struggling to wrap her tongue around them, before turning to Kate. "You got anything lined up? Top a'the class and all that?"

She hates this, hates the attention fixed firmly on her and how she's going to completely blindside everyone who ever expected her to do well. "I..."

"Told her she wasn't 'lowed to apply for anything yet." Boxer interjects, a wide grin on his face. "Libs and I're dragging her away for a few weeks first. Headed up to Ma and Pop's cabin in the mountains for a bit... 'fore we all get dragged our separate ways."

Kate turns quickly to frown at him and this information she's only hearing for the first time, but Libby looks completely unsurprised. She winks quickly in Kate's direction, before rising to her feet. "More drinks, anyone?"

* * *

They find a football somewhere, and Kate has no idea where all these things are coming from. Drinks keep appearing as though from thin air. The bottle of vodka, Kate soon realises, is actually one of three, and on top of the football someone has also managed to source half a dozen battery-operated lanterns and a boom-box from God-knows-where, so that their little beach becomes noisier and slightly better lit.

It's after three by the time Libby seems to crash. Considering Kate is fairly certain that her best friend is responsible for downing at least half a bottle of vodka, on top of whatever else she'd drunk at the pub, Kate actually considers that Libby had done quite well in carrying on this far. But now, Kate was tugging her up from her crumpled position on the sand, an empty bottle awkwardly underneath her head in place of a pillow. "Come on, Lib." Kate murmurs, hoisting her best friend up. Libby mutters something unintelligable and wraps an arm around Kate's shoulders, but says little else. "We'll get you home, hey? Dust the sand off you and get you to bed."

There's a sound akin to a war cry, and Kate spies Boxer weaving towards them. Five seconds later he reaches them and snaps his hand to his forehead in what he evidently intends to be a salute. "Prin-" He hiccups, "Oops. Princ'ss. It'd be ple'sure t'get you home."

Kate heaves a heavy sigh, knowing that it would more likely be _her _getting _him _back, but she would never tell him that. "Great." She smiles at him. "Let's go."

* * *

"Urgh! What year is it?" Boxer moans, breaking the sleepy silence that had previously filled the dorm room. Kate's lips curl into a smile as she looks up from the sonogram in her hand in time to see Boxer push himself up from the bed, his lurid flamingo shirt creased and askew, his cheek marked with the imprint of the pillow. "Who's the sick fucker that kicked me in the head?"

Perhaps woken by Boxer's proclamation, or the movement beside her, Libby groans loudly. "Oh, there's fucking frigates in my brain!"

"Good morning!" Kate trills cheerfully. Boxer's feet are hanging off the edge of the bed, his massive frame, already too large for a standard single bed, looking even more comical beside Libby. Kate considers the small amount of bed space left, thanks to Boxer swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and takes a running leap. She lands on the mattress, bouncing once or twice for good measure. Both groan loudly at the movement. "How are we doing this morning?"

"Leave us to die, you sadistic bitch." Libby mumbles, burying her face in the pillow so that her next words are muffled. "I wasn't this mean to you when you were puking your guts up."

Kate smiles a sugar-sweet smile Libby doesn't see and gently brushes a clump of hair from Libby's clammy face. "This is true, Hon. You want food? Water?" Libby moans like a petulant child, batting away Kate's hand and shaking her head.

"Don' wanna." She mumbles, then moans again. "Nooooo... fucking hold a pillow over my head. I feel like shit." She tosses her head slightly. "And why are _you _on my bed." A hand jabs blindly from beneath the blankets in the general direction of Boxer.

"Yeah, why'm I here?" Boxer mumbles, flopping back onto the pillows again and closing his eyes, earning a hiss from Libby. A moment later he frowns, moving to dig something out from underneath him. "The fuck..." He tugs a bright red bra from beneath his leg. "Aah, shit. Did we have a bloody threesome or something? What's with the clothes?"

Kate lays down, the three of them crammed onto the single bed. "Well, you were both wasted, and by the time I got Libby here and into bed - or... _on _I guess - you decided you weren't moving and crashed next to her."

Boxer frowns, as though he was expecting a much more complicated explanation. "Doesn't explain the Victoria's Secret going on."

"Oh, we had lots of outfit changes yesterday. Don't think there's anything left in the wardrobe." Kate gestures to the ground, where the rest of their clothes had been carelessly shoved earlier that morning. Boxer shrugs, unwilling to move and verify the story.

"You two..." Libby lifts her head for a moment. "Shh with the chatting. _Please._" She gives the sound of moaning cry a child might emit when begging for a lolly.

"I bring painkillers." Kate shakes a bottle of Panadol and a bottle of water.

There's a moment's hesitation, then a hand slithers out from the blankets once more to take the bottle, before withdrawing once more. "Love you." Libby mutters. "Now shhh."

Boxer, however, pales. "I'm gonna be sick." He mutters thickly, pushing himself to his feet and staggering towards the bathroom, leaving them with the sound of his retching. Kate winces sympathetically, her gaze on the bathroom door., and moves to get him a fresh glass of water. It clinks against his teeth when he emerges and takes it, but he manages to muster a grin, looking slightly better than he had. "Sorry, Princess. It's just something I ate! And I'm a bit tired." He holds his arms out as though seeking her approval. "I'm fine though. Don't worry!"

For a moment, Kate is utterly confused, but Libby, still hidden beneath her pillow, seems to catch on immediately. "Nonono!" She joins in, giggling. "You... you're just a bit stressed? From all of the exams."

Suddenly catching on that they were mocking her excuses of a few weeks ago, she rolls her eyes, despite the relief she's feeling that Boxer and Libby haven't completely lost their minds. "Very funny." Kate mutters dryly as the two dissolve into laughter again.

"Nah." Boxer mutters, flopping back to the bed once more and closing his eyes. "I'm actually pregnant."

"You're hilarious." Kate mutters, smiling at her two best friends. "I love you dorks."

"We love you too." Libby murmurs sleepily. "Even if all three of you are piled on here ignoring the other fucking bed in the room." She heaves a heavy sigh, and her hand reaches blindly in Kate's direction, squeezing reassuringly. "This baby is going to have us. We're here for you both, Kate. Even if Flynn's not."

"Yeah." Kate murmurs, her smile slipping slightly. "Thanks. But Lib..." Kate gently peels Libby's hand off. "That's definitely _not _my arm."

* * *

_Even if Flynn's not. _

Kate doesn't know why it's these four words that send her walking down the near-deserted corridors, why it's Libby's casual-hungover assertion of company during the years ahead. Why it's this that activates the guilt gnawing at her.

Of course, there had been no question of telling him when she was certain she was getting rid of it, but now... now that she's going to be a _mother._.. now that she's made that choice...

She suddenly realises that he, at least, should be given the same choice. Not just for her, or for him, but for it. The baby.

And so she clutches the sonogram in one hand and walks, heart in her throat, towards his office.

And she doesn't know _what _outcome she's dreading more; him walking away or... or him being tied to her, in her life forever.

"Kate!" A voice pulls her from her thoughts, and she starts, backtracking and realising a moment later she's completely walked past Mr O's office. He rises from his chair and moves to the doorway, and Kate shoves the sonogram deep into her pocket. "Shouldn't you be sleeping off a big night right now? You're looking shockingly un-hungover."

"Oh..." Kate stammers, trying to centre herself. "I... I just..." He frowns at her, and she pulls herself together. "Got a mother of all headaches. But nothing some fresh air won't fix. I... uh... I was hoping for a word with Lieutenant Commander Flynn, actually." Kate clears her throat, trying to keep her voice casual as she glances further down the corridor.

Mr O lets out a small chuckle. "Oh, well I think you're out of luck with that one."

"What?!" Kate turns back to him. "What do you mean?"

She can tell she's being odd, knows he's confused and more than a little alarmed. "Uh... he left last night." He waves a hand in the air. "You know Flynn. He's always been like that. Hates anything that will keep him away from the sea." He gives another small chuckle. "Couldn't wait to get back to his bloody boat."

"He's gone?!"

Mr O rolls his eyes. "That man only has one thing on his mind, Kate, and it's the bloody _Hammersley._" He peers at her. "You okay, Kate?"

The earth is crashing away from her feet, her resolution fading. But she has to pull herself together. He'd gone. Gone, and there was nothing she could do about it. "Yes." She lies. "Yes, I'm fine."


	12. Chapter 12

"What do you think of Natalie?" Libby suggests, drawing her knees up to her chest and shifting further back into the camping chair she was currently occupying. The evening air around them is hot, oh so hot, and after a long day of swimming and lazing about in the shade, neither she nor Kate can be bothered to do much more than lazily poke at some sausages as they cook on the sizzling hotplate, their chairs as far back as they can from the radiating heat whilst still remaining within reach. They're still in their swimming costumes, although well and truly dry by now, Libby with a sarong wrapped loosely over the top, Kate a light sundress. Her shoulders and the tip of her nose are pink from the sun, and she's fighting to stay awake, her only real motivation the gnawing hunger in her. "Or Alex for a boy?"

"Hmmm..." Kate hums noncommittally as she turns the sausages over with the tongs, before flopping back down into her chair once more. "Maybe." She slaps at a mosquito on her arm, and wipes its smeared remains off with the hem of her dress. "I don't know. I can't decide. Honestly, deciding a name is the least of my worries right now. Have you seen how much stuff I'll need for it? And I don't even have a car. _Or _even have a job yet." But she forces herself to stop. The list of all the things she still needs to figure out is infinite.

"Well, I think all three of us are unemployed together at the moment, so we can line up at Centrelink together." Libby stifles a yawn, reaching forwards to retrieve the book that Kate had abandoned beside them and flipping it open at random. They'd ventured into town the day before yesterday, partly for something to do, but mostly to check in with civilisation by reaching somewhere with reception. Though none of them mentioned it, Kate knows that the three of them were wondering whether information about their next postings had been sent to them, but none of their phones had yielded any further information about the future. Of course, they hadn't exactly expected the news to arrive by text message - they'd all listed Boxer's parents' cabin as their address of contact, and were intent on staying until sent otherwise. Kate had been checking the letterbox at least three times a day since they had arrived.

Regardless, they'd had lunch in town, and then, with not much else to do, they'd walked the streets of Leura and visited each shop that took their fancy. Of course, Kate had dragged them to the bookshop (ignoring the calls of "nerd" behind her from both of her friends) and she'd bought the pregnancy book on a whim. "Ouch! Page 205 looks painful as fuck."

"Thanks." Kate mutters sarcastically, rolling her eyes and swatting halfheartedly in Libby's direction. "I hadn't exactly gotten that far into it." Libby's frown grows as she rotates the book this way and that, apparently to examine the image from different angles. "Lib, will you _stop_?!" Kate demands, feeling her anxiety grow with Libby's frown. "Geez, you'll give me nightmares."

_"This_ is giving me nightmares." Libby mutters, but she turns the page all the same, flicking to the spot where Kate's bookmark - one of Libby's bobby-pins - had rested. "You read all this today?" She doesn't wait for Kate to answer. "Trust you to _Kate-McGregor _it though."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Kate scoffs, turning down the heat on the barbecue. She's not sure whether she needs to be insulted or amused, so she settles her face into a coolly expectant expression.

Libby looks unabashed, closing the book and waving it in the air. "Babe, you're actually studying for a pregnancy."

"I'm..." Kate begins, but she trails off when she realises that Libby is essentially right. But, hey, Kate had been thrown into this completely unprepared, and she was desperate to at least level the playing field with fate and learn as much as she could. "Shut up." She mutters as Libby continues to laugh. One of Kate's hands trails behind her, scraping her hair off the nape of her neck and securing it in a messy bun, closing her eyes for a moment. "I'm so going for another swim after dinner." She mutters, as sweat trickles down her back. "It is too bloody hot." She turns towards the back window of the cabin, wide open in the hopes of tempting an as-yet non-existent breeze in. "Hey, Box. Sausages are almost done."

"Count me in for anything involving water." Libby agrees, before tugging at a strand of her hair. "Even if it turns my hair into frizz central. It's about a million degrees out and it's not even summer yet. You got a spare hair tie? Cheers." Libby, too, ties her hair up. Several tendrils escape almost immediately, as they always seem to do, but she makes no efforts to re-secure it. "But seriously, Boxer's 'rents get air-conditioning in this place and I would never leave."

Kate hums in quiet affirmation, because the thought had crossed her mind, however briefly. She'd love to bring a child up somewhere like here, somewhere simple, away from the craziness of a big city, and the danger of the Navy. In the quiet moments before she'd fall asleep each night, Kate would listen to the birds singing and the crickets chirping and the creek running and feel at peace. But she knows deep down that she could never live away from the water and a career - not indefinitely at least. Even here, with Boxer and Libby both hissing at her to relax, she'd find herself taking at least three walks a day, loathe as she is to sit still.

They haven't exactly talked about the future. Not really. There had been vague mentions of potential locations for their next postings, fleeting allusions of job applications submitted and recommendations secured, sure, but no clear declarations of a future, or any mention of the fact that, soon, they will all be going their separate ways. For weeks, Boxer, Libby and Kate had been cocooned in a world of security, company and familiarity, but all that would change soon enough. And then, Kate will truly have to adjust to being alone. And a single mother. And Kate wonders what terrifies her more; being alone, or being alone with a baby.

The truth is that she's in two minds about whether she wants to talk about it. Some days, she wakes with a need to discuss every little potential detail of their lives from this point, as though by talking about them, she can harness some fraction of control over the uncertainty of the future. Other days, the thought of Libby and Boxer both being on active duty while she sits behind a desk _somewhere _terrifies her to the point of nausea, and she wants to hide under the blankets with her hands clapped over her ears and live in a fantasy world of denial, because it seemed so unfair that after all of _this, _and how close the three of them had grown, that the brass would send them to three different corners of the country.

But she's trying. Little steps. So she forces herself out of bed each morning and tries to enjoy the time with her friends.

Boxer emerges, carrying a bowl of salad in one hand, and another small dish in the other. "Oh Satan's arsehole, it's hot." He says by way of greeting, resting the bowl atop the small picnic table they've eaten most of their meals at; despite the heat outside, inside is no cooler. "You letting the meat burn, Princess?" He picks up the pair of tongs and snaps them together, as though brandishing a weapon.

"It's cooked _perfectly._" Kate protests with an exaggerated wave towards the barbecue. "We were stuck waiting for you and the salad that took bloody four and a half hours, a crack team of scientists and the wind to be blowing South-East for you to construct."

Boxer makes a chatterbox motion with his hand, before transferring the meat to a tray with the tongs. "I'll have you know, I went all out for you two. It's quite the fancy salad. Fit for a cookbook, this one. _Don't _roll your eyes at me, Young Lady." He adds, jabbing the tongs in Kate's direction. "Princess of Attitude, you are."

Kate scrunches her nose in disinterest at his lecture, turning instead to the table and the smaller of the two bowls. "What's in here?" Kate questions, peeling back an edge of the foil protecting it. Boxer slaps at her hand and she lets go fast, clutching her hand close. "Oi!"

"It's feta." He explains, as though she's just gone to touch some radioactive material with her bare hands, or almost gotten them caught in a bear trap. "To go with the salad." He rolls his eyes at her confused look, and jabs her lightly in the stomach with the tongs. "You can't have soft cheeses, Preggo."

"Right." She huffs, sinking back into her chair. She's long since stopped rolling her eyes at Boxer's over-protectiveness. Between his constant plying her with vitamins, and his careful observation of her diet, not to mention the research he'd been doing into the sturdiest strollers, safest carseats and even the most durable dummies, Kate finds herself feeling less autonomous every day. "How could I forget?" She spits, unable to keep the sulkiness from her tone.

"You don't even like feta, dork." Libby reminds her, a wide smirk on her face. "Just let us be overprotective while we still can, hey?"

"Like distance is going to stop Wonder-Dad over here." Kate mutters darkly, arms folded tight across her chest.

"Wow." Boxer lets out a low whistle. "Gotta get some food into the hangry bitch, stat!"

Kate feels her bad mood slip as quickly as it had arrived. She knows they're only looking out for her. "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help. I'm just..."

"We know." Boxer assures her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "It's all good. Really."

She doesn't feel 'all good', though. One minute, she's happy. The next, she finds herself craving hot chips so badly she feels she would willingly commit murder for them, and the next, she'll find herself crying over the body of a dead fly. "Thanks for putting up with me, guys." She mutters awkwardly, fidgeting with her dogtags, dragging the metal chain backwards and forwards. And she knows 'thanks' will never be able to encompass the relief and gratitude she needs to extend to her friends who have stuck by her through all of this, but it's the only word she can think of. "I know I've been a bitch."

"Eh. Who cares? We still love you." Libby shrugs, as Boxer slides a generous helping of food over to her. Admittedly, his salad looks amazing, feta or not, and she digs in straight away.

For a while, they just sit and eat, plates resting on their knees, and for a while the only sound the incessant chirping of the crickets and warbling of the birds around them. The sky turns from its bright blue to brilliant oranges and pinks with the setting sun, the occasional bird flying above, but none of them make any effort to move, simply relishing in the day. Kate feels herself sinking lower and lower into the chair, and her eyelids are just beginning to droop when Boxer moves, sitting up with a loud, theatrical groan. "Man, I'm beat."

Kate hums in agreement, standing up too and helping as Boxer begins collecting the plates and cutlery to wash. The three of them make their way back inside. Boxer washes, while Kate wields the tea-towel and Libby packs each clean item away, and between the three of them, the clean up seems to take no time at all. There's a fussing over drinks - Boxer and Libby both grab a beer each, while Kate clutches her drink bottle, and the three of them make their way back to the creek, and the cool water.

* * *

They spend most of the next morning at the creek, Boxer and Libby tossing a bottle of sunscreen at her every hour or so, identical _don't argue with me _expressions on both of their faces. They eat leftover sausages on slices of bread for lunch, leaning against the back of the cabin in the shade.

Later, Boxer announces he's going for a run while the girls retreat inside - Libby murmuring something about needing a coffee while Kate is intent on reading another chapter of her book. She only makes it through ten or so pages before she dozes off, the busyness of the morning tiring her out completely. By the time she wakes, it's close to three o'clock, and the heat of the day has given way to dark, threatening clouds. Kate yawns and stretches, before padding out into the main room to find Libby sprawled across the squashy lounge, hair damp.

"What'd I miss?" She mumbles sleepily, flopping onto the armchair. Libby looks up from her spot on the lounge and drops her magazine into her lap.

"Not much." Libby stretches her arms above her head, and there's an answering popping of joints. "Box's gone out for a wander but he should be back soon." She glances towards the windows. "Looks like we'll get a bit of a storm here soon." Kate hums in affirmation, glancing at the darkening sky outside. Even as she watches, she can see the clouds moving over them. She'd always loved storms as a kid, had been in awe of the lightning flashing across the sky, and the answering rumbling of thunder.

"How long ago did Box-" But the rest of her words are cut off as, as if on cue, the door opens and Boxer clatters inside.

"They're here." He says by way of greeting, his eyes wide in equal measures of excitement and fear.

"They're... what?" Libby frowns in confusion, but Kate has spied the official looking envelopes in his hand, and is already pushing herself up from the armchair, all sleepiness forgotten. Mutely, Boxer holds the envelopes up for them both to see, and Libby gives a small squeak. "Oh shit." Boxer says nothing more. For a moment he stands frozen in the doorway, as though waiting for invitation or instruction to move further, or perhaps seeking confirmation that this _is _the moment they've all been collectively dreading and waiting for their whole time here. "So... so this is it, then. Isn't it?" Libby stammers, one hand tugging at a strand of her hair. "Have... have you opened yours yet?"

Boxer shakes his head. "I was... I was waiting for you guys."

"Right." Libby's still wrapping her hair around her finger, so tight that Kate can see circulation getting cut off with each twist. Just as Kate's about to say something though, Libby lets her hair fall. "Should we open them together?"

The seriousness of the moment seems to have caught up with them all, the realisation that this is the moment that their lives separate from each other. Their little holiday is no more. "I... I think so." Kate manages, her voice hushed, as though mere volume will send the letters curling into ash.

"Right." Boxer agrees, apparently spurred into action by someone else making the decision. "Right." He repeats, more to himself this time, and, moving forwards, he hands each of them their letters, before clutching his own and flopping onto the lounge. "N-now?"

Kate looks up from her own examination of the envelope, and the name across it. _Lieutenant Katie McGregor. _It's the first time she's seen her new rank written out. They exchange glances, and seem to mutually agree. Then, the three of them tear at their envelopes. Unfurling the thick paper, Kate feels her heart hammering in her chest. She scans it quickly, then rereads it several more times before she finally looks up to find Boxer and Libby both looking at her, the burning questions in their eyes. "Canberra." Kate murmurs eventually, with a small smile. It's not as if the news is unexpected, or in any way unwanted. After all, she'd applied for the position, as well as several other shore postings. But all the same, she can't help the small twinge of disappointment, and of jealousy. It wasn't the position that spurred a career on. "At... at _HMAS Harman. _Just... just working at the base there. Logistical stuff. Until... you know." She folds the paper in her lap. "What about you guys?"

"Fleet Base West. Submarines. _Sheean._" Libby murmurs, and although her eyes are shining with excitement, there's a flicker of guilt in her gaze too. Perth seemed about as far away from Canberra as the moon.

"That's great!" Kate tries to focus on her excitement, rather than her dread. After all, submarines had always been Libby's dream, and despite the fact that she'll miss Lib like crazy, she _is _proud of her friend. "And... Box?"

"I..." He looks shiftily back to his paper, stalling for time, and Kate feels her breathing hitch, wondering why he looks so torn up. Surely he couldn't have recieved _that _bad of a position. "Um..."

"Box?" Libby presses, sitting up straighter. "Is... no good?"

"No. I..." His voice cracks, and he keeps his gaze on his paper. "I've been posted on _HMAS ANZAC._" He says the words in a tumbling rush, as though confessing some shameful secret, and although Libby looks momentarily confused, Kate knows why he was hesitant to confess his posting. It was the position that she'd dreamed of, before. Before Mike. Before she'd found out she was pregnant. Hell, when she'd first gotten accepted to train as a Lieutenant she'd gazed at the application page, of a future she seemed sure of. And now, Boxer was living her dream.

"That's great." Kate says the words more emphatically than perhaps she normally would have, but she needs Boxer to know that it's okay, and after a moment he looks up and catches her gaze.

"You reckon?" He asks, still looking guilty and uncertain.

"Yeah, I do." She assures him, and despite her initial reaction, she really _is _proud of him. "Really! You'll be great." She glances down at her paper once more, and they all lapse into silence once more. Adding to her jumble of feelings is a new wave of guilt. This day, and her friends' new positions were supposed to be an exciting time for them, and she hates that her situation, her own damn stupidity, has marred this time for them. She wants to say something, to impress upon them how proud she is of them, how grateful and in awe of them she is. But she can't find words important enough. Mutely, she stands up and settles herself in between her two friends, and after a moment Libby drops her head onto Kate's shoulder, and Boxer squeezes her hand.

"Really busts up the dream team, though, doesn't it?" Libby murmurs, and Kate feels the light splash of Libby's tears upon her shoulder.

"Yeah." She agrees, half-laughing, half-crying. "Yeah, it does."

* * *

"Now, you email me every day, okay?" Boxer presses, resting his hands on Kate's shoulders, and with his height looming over her, he looks more like a stern father lecturing a disobedient child than anything else. All around them, people are moving and talking, a constant hive of activity. It feels odd, after so long being just the three of them. Boxer looks more serious than Kate has ever seen him, peering down at her with worry etched all over his face. "I might not be able to reply, but I'll read them whenever I can and I want to know everything, Princess, _everything. _Any problems, any... any updates. Pics and... and news about the new job, okay? And the second you go into labour-"

"I know, I know." Kate assures him, trying desperately to reassure him. Somehow, though, for reasons she can't quite explain, his panic and uncertainty has grounded her. Kate has to hand it to him, he'd held in better than she'd expected, with none of his usual fussing the entire trip to the airport. Now, however, he appeared to be making up for lost time. He'd already presented her with his compiled notebook of research into all the purchases she should be considering, briefly flicking through each page and rattling off information until Kate had to cut him off and remind him, gently but firmly, that her flight was boarding in ten minutes and that they should probably move towards the gate.

"And I expect a phone call the second I'm an Auntie." Libby adds, wrapping her arms around Kate the moment Boxer releases her. "Day or night, and I want pictures too of our favourite Mama Bear. And phone calls!" Libby's words are punctuated with sniffles and hiccups, her grip tight on Kate. She was flying out today too, though hers wasn't until the afternoon, and Boxer was headed to report for his own position later that day. Provided he left the airport, of course.

"Damn, guys, isn't it supposed to be me that's the mess of hormones." Kate stammers, trying desperately to inject a little humour into the moment as Libby released her. Behind them, a voice announces that her flight is boarding, and Kate's stomach lurches. Part of her has to fight the urge to cling to Libby and Boxer and never let them go. But she knows that it's well and truly time for her to move forwards to the next chapter of her life. "I'll be okay." She murmurs, trying to reassure herself as much as them.

"I know." Boxer gives her a sad smile, squeezing her hand. "You're... you're Princess Perfect. You'll... you'll be fine. It's just hard saying goodbye."

"How about..." Kate begins, smiling a watery smile up at both of them. "...we just say _see you later _instead?" She feels the tears she's tried so hard to keep at bay begin to fall, and she swipes impatiently at her eyes with the back of her hand. "I can't thank you both enough." She manages. "You've both been-"

"Don't start that or I'll never stop crying!" Libby chokes, hugging her once more. "We love you, okay?"

"I love you both too." Kate murmurs, giving Libby another squeeze before pulling away and trying to compose herself. "Right. I... I've got to go."

"Yep." Boxer nods, exhaling deeply. Then, with an air of pulling himself together, he gestures towards the line. "Onwards, Princess. Your carriage of the sky awaits!"

And despite everything, the uncertainty of her future in Canberra, and the fact that she's going to be a mother, a _mother, _and she has no idea what she's doing, she laughs. One hand on her middle, she turns, and makes her way towards the gate. _It's you and me, Bub. _She thinks, with a small smile. _You and me. _

* * *

_End of Part One_


	13. Chapter 13 - Part II

Part II

_make me feel again_

* * *

Sometimes Mike finds himself opening up the internet and searching Kate's name. A weakless, spineless, _pointless_ thing to do, really. And it leaves him dripping in shame that it is _this_ that he has resorted to, because he knows that he has no right to any information about her life, and that even if he was to find something, it would neither help him move on or help his career.

But he can't help it.

Just like he can't stop his mind from drifting back to the time they'd spent together. Or imagining her walking the streets of Cairns. Staying with him. _Being_ with him. A possibility as simple as her basking in the sunshine. The life that he'd envisioned for the both of them, the chance of something real. Of... of something more than the tonnes of metal he'd poured his heart into.

And so he types her name into the search bar each time and waits to read about heroic exploits, or successful operations. Stories that are sure to send him into both fear for her safety and pride at her success. Something to recognise the tremendous officer he knows she is, regardless of any other feelings for her.

But there's never anything to read.

The first time, he dismisses it as poor timing. After all, it was a mere three weeks since they'd left Watson's, and it was ridiculous to think that she'd already be hitting the papers, no matter how incredible she was. By the third, fourth, fifth, sixth time, he stops scrolling through page after page of pointless internet searches in a desperate attempt to hear about her. Whatever Kate McGregor is doing in life, it's apparently not noteworthy enough to merit documentation. And she drifts further and further away from him.

He knows there's no way that he could ever convince his radio operator to search for her in amongst the personnel files of the Navy either. Not without a good reason, at least. And he has none. Except the selfish need to know that his own stupidity hadn't destroyed her. And so he tries to move on. Tries to tell himself that the version of Kate he's holding so dear to his heart is nothing but an idealised copy of what he'd dreamed her up to be. Tries to tell himself that it wasn't _meant to be _or _fate _or anything else he's been kidding himself about, things he'd never believed in until her and may never believe in again.

And he goes back to his ship.

* * *

Kate reads a lot in her spare time. How could she not? She's Kate Freakin' McGregor, after all, practically born with her nose in a book. Known for perpetually being headed to the library. Besides, she finds she doesn't like being alone in her bare, non-descript one bedroom. So she reads.

An eclectic mix, really. She works her way through pregnancy books, and parenting books. Reads about nutrition guides for toddlers and fussy children, on how to make the perfect school lunches. She reads books on how to raise a global child, on how to raise a peaceful child, on how to foster logic and autonomy and critical thinking. She reads books on gender roles, on how to be a single parent. On how to encourage good sleeping habits from birth.

Some, she reads aloud, because she knows it's good for the baby to hear her voice. She reads novels too, borrowed from the local library, and finds herself hoping (in spite of her logic) that Shrimp doesn't remember the spoilers in _Order of the Phoenix _that she reads aloud to it. She reads kids' books too, some of her old favourites entwined with new ones as well. She learns _Green Eggs and Ham _off by heart, and she's reread _Alice in Wonderland_, her favourite as a child, as well.

She doesn't tell anyone about this, of course, because she knows Libby will think she's mad at the very least if Kate confides just how much time she spends shut up in her bedroom reading aloud to her swollen middle. But the feeling of stupidity doesn't stop her because _this_, at least, is something that she can do to help her baby. This, at least, is something she is good at, that can set Shrimp up for lifelong learning. And, hell, she knows she could just as easily talk to it or sing songs but this, this feels easier to her. After all, what is there to say to an extension of her own body?

No, all in all, she finds it easier to use someone else's words, rather than struggle to articulate her own.

* * *

"Have you logged those files for me yet?" Kate jumps at the sudden voice behind her, very nearly knocking her water bottle off the table. She manages to catch it before it hits the ground, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks at her sudden bout of clumsiness. She hates most of all that it's her boss that sees this ineptitude, when she's normally so put together at work. But somehow, his own obvious disdain for her 'situation' - as he put it - and barely concealed sexism, instead of prompting her to prove herself, instead usually sends her into a frazzled mess around him. Setting the water back on the table, she gestures to the pile of papers in front of her.

"I'm almost finished the last of them, Sir." She jabbers, mentally kicking herself for yet another show of stupidity. The problem was that her work was so dreadfully dull that, without caffeine in her life, her mind kept shutting off, or drifting to other, less desired, thoughts. Not to mention that she was so bloody tired that even the floor was looking like a plush mattress. It would be alright if she was at least doing a few different things, but all day she's been logging file after file into the online server, and her brain feels fried. "Should be another thirty minutes, I'd say."

It's then that Kate spies the large pile of files in his hands and feels her shoulders sink, just _knowing _that he was about to hand them to her. "Right." Her boss, Commander Stevenson, raises an eyebrow. "Well, I have a few more for you. If you feel you can manage." The words are more of a thinly veiled insult rather than a comment, and he doesn't bother to wait for a response, depositing them unceremoniously to her desk. "As I've said, if you run into any trouble, ask Lieutenant Winter. He'll be able to help you out. And as soon as, please." Kate nods and turns back to her desk, but a moment later Stevenson speaks again, his back to her. "And I'd love a coffee, too."

She waits until he's firmly out of sight and earshot before she dares to roll her eyes. From the desk opposite, the corners of Winter's mouth twitch sympathetically. He, at least, has been given different jobs that had taken him away from his desk. Kate sometimes gets to do these sorts of things too, if someone else assigns it, but for the most part, Stevenson always seemed to land her with the filing. "Does he realise that you've been doing this basically every day since you got here?" Winter quips, his voice low so as not to be overheard, while his fingers tap on the keyboard. It was true, of course, not that Kate was holding it against Winter.

"Hey, at least he didn't call me 'love' this time." Kate muses back in a failing attempt at bright-siding her current situation. She's still so tired, she can barely drag herself up from the desk. Distractedly, she opens her desk drawer and tugs a jelly snake from a packet, desperate for a sugar fix. It's about the best she can do, as she's been off coffee since Watson's. God, she'd kill for a coffee. Or a beer. Or anything really that's stronger than a handful of jelly snakes and green cordial. "Urgh." She groans, pushing herself to her feet and stretching. "Right, you want a brew?" She tries to keep the bite from her tone, but Winter smiles sympathetically again, knowing exactly what she means.

"Nah, I'm all good. Macy's been at me to cut down anyway. Reckons I keep her awake twitching at night." Kate gives a small smile at the mention of his wife. Though she's never met her, Kate feels as though she does with all the anecdotes Winter has relayed over the course of her time here.

"Your loss." Kate quips, pumping a fist and putting on a sugary-sweet voice of enthusiasm. "I'm getting really good at working the machine."

"Put it on your resume." Winter teases back with a double thumbs up. "And _I'll_ write that I've become really good at logging transfer requests for _Hammersley."_

All of a sudden she's wide awake, and she hates the desperation in her voice as she turns her full attention on him. "What?"

If Winter notices her sudden change of tone, he says nothing. His eyes fixed on his computer still, he shrugs his shoulders. "Oh, just Flynn. Never met an XO he likes." It isn't until Kate is silent for several moments that Winter looks up at her in confusion. "Surely you've heard about Mighty Mike Flynn?"

"Yeah, I've... I've heard of him." She stammers, forcing herself to keep her voice casual. "Uh, you know him?"

Winter lets out a snort of laughter. "Just by reputation. I mean, I've logged..." He pauses for a moment, counting under his breath. "..._five_ transfer requests by Flynn for a new XO in my time here. _Five. _But I guess he'd be hard to work with. I mean, dude seems cool, but a bit of a cowboy by reputation. And one of those girl-in-every-port type guys. You know the ones."

"Right." Kate murmurs, feeling her heart pound in her chest. She wishes she hadn't said anything at all. "So... uh... the type you kind of don't want to be under?" She winces internally at the poor choice of words. "_Posted_ under... under his command, I mean?"

Winter, mercifully, doesn't seem to have registered. He shrugs yet again, a smirk on his face. "Hey, I've seen you get antsy with me for misusing a semicolon. This guy..." He jabs at the computer screen as though Mike is actually there. "_So_ not your style."

"Ah, good to know." Kate murmurs distractedly, even though her world is crashing down. _Lieutenant. _She tells herself. _You're a Lieutenant. Act like it. Get it together. _A hand reaches out and touches her middle for a moment, drawing strength from Shrimp. "Right." She tries again, praying her voice has returned to normal. "Well, I've... I've got a coffee to make."

* * *

She manages not to break down until she's safely at home, with no one else. Though it's a surprise even to herself that this version of 'breaking down' doesn't involve dissolving into tears. Instead, she changes into a baggy tracksuit and an old concert t-shirt and heads into the her room. She grabs one of Boxer's home-burned CDs at random and puts it into her speakers, trying to focus on the music. And then she drags a flatpack from beneath her bed and into the space beside it.

She's not quite sure why it's _this _of all things that drives her into determination to put the cot together. Maybe a subconscious need to prove to herself she _doesn't _need Mike Flynn in her life, that she's strong and capable. Not that she was leaving it unassembled _purely _because some part of herself was dreaming that one day he'd be there and-

_No. _

She's not going to think about that.

She's Kate Freakin' McGregor, and she knows how to prepare, so she busies herself setting out what she needs, laying out all the pieces and gathering the tools she'll need from the small selection she has in the drawer in the kitchen. And she's itching for a wine to go with it, but instead she throws herself into the assembly guide, forcing her brain to focus.

Half an hour later though and she's still in that same spot, peering around the room helplessly and close to despair, twisting the screwdriver in her hands as though a handyman is suddenly going to burst out of it if she turns it enough. And the CD is playing its last track, and she knows it's beyond stupid to be feeling so overwhelmed at something so small, but she's fighting the urge to take the screwdriver and stab it into the wall. Reminding herself that that particular action would achieve nothing, except void her security bond at the very least, she resists. "Get a hold of yourself." She mutters, sucking in a deep breath and turning once more to the instruction manual. "You are a Navy Officer. You can drive a warship. You are _not _going to be felled by a cot."

It's not just the cot though. Winter's casual words from before are still ringing in her ears, and she knows it's her own stupid fault for asking, for diving down the rabbit hole that she'd sworn she'd avoid. _Girl in every port. _Was that all it had been? She hates that, however critical she'd been in dismissing any possibility of him being in her life, the words still hurt. And it's not just the words. It's the idea that everything she'd secretly hoped was nothing but a dumb fantasy she'd convinced herself of.

"It doesn't matter." She tries to tell herself, digging her fingernails into the carpet. "_He _doesn't matter." But it's a lie, and her voice cracks on the last word. "You're..." She has to fight the sobs. "You're a Navy Officer."

But her mantra isn't helping. She doesn't feel like a Navy Officer lately. She feels like a stupid schoolgirl with a broken heart. The shame and embarrassment is nearly unbearable, as if she's just been caught stenciling their initials in little lovehearts on her notebooks. And it's all well and good to tell herself that no one besides Lib and Boxer knew. But they didn't know how she felt. They couldn't possibly know that, no matter how much she hates Mike Flynn, she desperately loves him too. And this, this final kick in the face from Mike that he isn't even aware of... it's almost like losing him again.

* * *

She searches his name.

It's something she hasn't let herself do up until now, something she _knows _will only make herself feel worse... and yet she finds she can't stop herself writing those nine little letters into the search bar.

There isn't much, in the grand scheme of things. But it's the picture of him, accompanying an article about _Hammersley _stopping a drug importation ring, that sends the wind out of her. She'd forgotten, in the time apart, just how the corners of his eyes had crinkled when he smiled, and how piercingly blue they were. She'd forgotten, too, the way his hair had flopped about, slightly longer than regulations would generally allow, in the breeze off the harbour, and the way she'd brushed it out of his eyes.

And she finds herself remembering other things too, things she'd long since tried to suppress, like the memory of how he'd kissed her that first time, tentatively at first, as though he wasn't sure how she'd respond, and how he'd looked at her and smiled as though words had failed him afterwards. And how he'd given her his jacket after they'd ended up sitting on the steps of the Opera House, overlooking the harbour and talking well into the night.

All of a sudden, her baby starts to move, kicking more enthusiastically than Kate thinks she's ever felt them. And she smiles, in amongst her tears. "Yeah, Shrimp." She whispers softly. "That's him." She turns her gaze back to the picture once more. "That's your Dad."

* * *

Desperate for a distraction, Kate settles herself on her bed, watching whatever is on. She likes it best when it's something she's never watched before; it requires her to concentrate harder to follow the plot. She's left the unassembled cot on the floor, abandoned, and is doing her best to ignore it. Not particularly hungry, she's slathered some Vegemite on some Saos - she'd _hated _Vegemite before getting pregnant - but _hey, _Shrimp wants it and so does she, and she deserves it tonight. She's just settling herself more comfortably when her mobile rings.

Glancing at the ID, she feels the first proper smile split her face. "Libby!" She answers, moving to switch off her television. "How are you?"

"_Hey, hon!"_ Libby's voice sounds cheery and carefree, and with a stab of envy, Kate can just picture her, perhaps with a beer in hand as she enjoys a warm Perth Friday night. God, she'd kill for a beer. Or a wine. Or to see her feet. "_I'm getting through it. Same old. Just got on shore now but ducking away from the usual 'let's get smashed' pub visit. It's just not the same without you."_ Kate doesn't begrudge the lack of information. She knows that there's only so much Libby can tell Kate about her actual daily duties, with so much of their missions and locations classified. "_How are you going, hon? Your boss any less of a dick?" _

Kate heaves a heavy sigh and sinks further into her pillows. "Well, if I get put up on insubordination charges, you'd support me and my bastard child, right?" She tucks the phone in between her shoulder and ear, so that she can swipe at the Vegemite with a finger and suck it off indulgently. "About the same, really. But hey, if I get fired, at least I have experience for a barista position!"

Libby lets out a tinkling laugh, and Kate finds she knows Libby well enough to be able to imagine the slight crease at the corner of Libby's eyes as she laughs, and the way that she fidgets with her hair when she's talking on the phone. "_Well, hey, if worst comes to worst, I've got your back! You can crash at my apartment and when I'm not at sea we'll top-and-tail it. You can pay me in cappuccino. Although judging by your latest picture, bubs might be knocking me out of sharing a single with you_."

"Ha!" Kate lets out a snort of laughter. "Shrimp is knocking _me _out of my single. I'm huge." Her middle looks even bigger now, as she's half sitting, half lying across her doona in a way that reminds her painfully of a walrus sunning itself on rocks. "I can't do anything! And I think I'm going to have to say goodbye to my feet soon. They're disappearing more and more every day!"

_"Aww! Hey, at least you didn't get stuck under your bed again today." _

"That was _one time._" Kate spits back, not quite able to fully forget the indignity of that hour. Thankfully, she'd managed to finally free herself without calling for assistance, though she was ashamed to say that it had cost her so much effort she'd had to take a nap afterwards. Not that she'd shared _that_ tidbit with Libby. "No. I've been trying to put together the freaking cot." She throws a death glare in the direction of the detritus upon her bedroom floor. "So I've got bloody bolts and screws everywhere and the instruction manual might as well be a Redskin wrapper for all the good it did."

Libby lets out a sympathetic wince. _"Yeah, I won't be much help with that, I'm afraid._" She pauses for a moment._ "Surely in Canberra there's at least one strong handyman that would help a poor damsel in distress? 'Hire a Hubby'? Or one of your dashing defense force neighbours?" _

Kate gives a dry scoff in answer, rolling her eyes at her friend's childishness, even though Libby can't see her. "Definite, _absolute _worst case, Lib." She switches the phone to her other ear. "So, no handy-woman tips for me, then? Didn't you date a guy that worked at a hardware shop for a bit?"

"_Unfortunately not, Babe. And he worked at a paint shop, so probably not much help for you." _There's a pause, during which Kate can hear Libby's fingernails drumming absently against the side of the phone. "_I didn't think the cot was up on the schedule yet."_

"What schedule?" Kate asks, even though she knows exactly _what _schedule Libby is referring to.

"_Oh, come on, Katie! You forget, I know you."_

_"_Yeah... well..." Kate hates the way she's spluttering. "Oh, get lost!" She turns her gaze towards the bedroom wall where, on the adjoining lounge room wall, she's tacked a giant tear-off-month wall calendar. She'd seen it at Kmart and had bought it, meticulously planning and colour-coding every detail until Shrimp is born. It hangs on the wall even now, detailing the next sixteen- _fifteen and a half_, she corrects herself - weeks of her pregnancy. Libby had caught a glimpse of it in one of Kate's photos and had been teasing her ever since. "I just... I like to be organised."

Libby sounds as though she's desperately trying not to laugh at her. "_Hey, it's all good. That's what we love about you! So... what's on the agenda for this weekend?" _

Kate doesn't have to refer to the calendar. She has it memorised anyway. "Well, I've got to cook some more meals for the freezer-"

"_Wait, you're cooking?!" _Kate can just about see the shock and disgust on Libby's face.

"Just... pasta and sandwiches and stuff. Pretty hard for me to screw them up." Kate has to fight hard to keep the defensiveness from her tone. "Not like I'm much good at anything else." She realises all too late that the statement is giving away her feelings of inadequacy. "Anyway, what-"

"_Kate..." _Libby cuts her off, suddenly serious. "W_hat's up? I can tell by your voice."_ Kate opens her mouth, intending to backtrack, but Libby beats her to it. "_And don't say it's nothing, because we both know it's not. What's going on?"  
_

Inwardly cursing, she tugs at a strand of hair. "It _is _nothing, Lib. It's... it's stupid." There's an impatient clicking of Libby's tongue on the other side, and Kate resigns herself to the worst. "Look, one of the coworkers just... mentioned Mike is all."

She's completely failed at keeping her voice calm. And even if she had, Kate knows that Lib would have seen right through it. _"And what did they say?" _

"That he..." She doesn't want to repeat it, but she knows Libby well enough to realise she won't give up until Kate spills. "Look, they were just saying he had a bit of a reputation as a cowboy and... and..." She hates the words, hates the admission that Mike meant more to her than she was letting on. "Look, they were going on about how he has a girl in every port." She says it quickly, as though tearing off a bandaid, but Libby still sucks in a breath. "But... but it's fine, you know? Whatever we had... it was just... just a thing and it's over and-"

"_Kate..." _

"I don't want to go down this rabbit hole again. It's just hormones making me think about him, and... and nothing else and-"

"_Kate-" _

"No! Look, I didn't want to talk about this anyway. I'm... I'm fine. I've... I've got just a few months until Shrimp is born and then... then I just be a mother." She can hear the cogs turning in Libby's brain. "Please, Lib. Just... just talk about something else."

"_Okay, well..." _Libby hesitates for a moment, then says. _"Well, the other reason I called is probably the other thing you don't want to talk about._" Kate tips her head, waiting for Libby to continue. _"Mrs O called me while I was at sea. Left a few voicemails. I've just listened to them."_ Kate sucks in a breath and she can just see the look of concern on Libby's features. _"Kate, you... you can't just hide this from them. I mean, Commander Olinsky is in the Navy. The moment you go on maternity leave he's going to see it in your file. Hell, the only reason he hasn't seen it is because you haven't filed for it yet. All he knows is you've suddenly taken off to Canberra and aren't calling them back. And... and the rumour mill is a bitch. All it's going to take is one person that hears him talk about you and... and it's better they hear it from you, isn't it?" _

"I... I don't know how." Kate mumbles. Libby was right. It _was _the other thing that she didn't want to talk about. She misses The Olinsky's every single day, from Elle's constant fussing and her book collections and her sweet perfume and her laugh, and Rowan's cheery chuckle and just talking to him. But more than that, she misses the feeling of someone caring for her, someone... someone like family. Libby seems to know what she's thinking.

_"They love you, Kate. They're going to love Shrimp too. I have no doubt about that. Just... just call them, okay?" _

"Yeah." Kate murmurs, without any real conviction. "Yeah, okay."

She wonders whether Libby will challenge her. She wonders whether she _wants _Libby to challenge her. And Kate has no idea whether she'll call. But then Libby drums her fingers on the phone once more. _"You heard from Box?" _

Kate can't choke back the laugh this change of topic brings. "Yeah. He... uh... sent me a present. Or Shrimp a present, I guess."

"_Ooh. Wildly inappropriate, I assume?" _Libby chuckles.

"Definitely. I'll send you a picture." Kate leans over absentmindedly to retrieve the two onesies that Boxer had sent in the mail, both with thick black text printed across the front. The first read _**Mummy was Nauti at HMAS Watson! **_The second **_Mum Loves the Seaman. _**Kate's email response had been mostly in capital letters, despite her laughter. Come to think of it, she's not entirely sure that the email will clear through the security system, and she sends a mental hope that '_GET YOU BACK!_' and _'MAKE YOU PAY!' don't_ constitute threats against an RAN officer. "I miss you guys." Kate sighs, clutching the onesie to her chest. "I just..." She can't put it into words how much she wishes that Libby and Boxer were with her, not just to support her and see Shrimp grow, but so that she knew they were safe too. But she knows that, if she starts expressing how alone and scared she really feels, that Libby would apply for a transfer in an instant, and Boxer wouldn't be far behind. And that's not the life she wants for her friends. Not tied down by her own decisions. "Go out to the pub with your crew, Lib. Have a few drinks for me."

Libby lets out another laugh. _"The last time I went out for 'just a few drinks', you had to carry me home. What am I going to do without you?" _

"Moderation?" Kate suggests tentatively.

"_And where's the fun in that?" _Libby quips, and for a moment they both laugh. "_You can do this, hon. And... and you let Box and me in. Don't... don't hide away from other people that want to be in your life, okay? Make some friends. Don't hide yourself away."_ She sniffs. "_I miss you, Kate. I... I really just want to be there to see it all."_

"Hey, you've got the country to protect." Kate smiles, even though her eyes are watering once again. "Besides, I'd drive you mad at the moment. My little place is still hopelessly bare and, besides, you'd go crazy without the sea. _And _without something to do."

_"I'll call you next shore leave. And keep emailing me!" _

"I will!" Kate assures her. They say their goodbyes, and a moment later Kate is left with nothing but the dial tone.

* * *

As she sets off towards the front door for her walk the next morning, she leaves her mp3 player behind, and makes a mental deal with herself that she will talk to the next person she sees. It's not as though she particularly _wants _to socialise. Talking to other people at the moment seems about as exhausting to her as running a full marathon, but she knows she's isolated herself here by hiding in her little townhouse and... and _maybe _she can cope with just a chat.

No sooner has she stepped onto the footpath out front that she spies across the road's kid dragging a wooden skateboard ramp into the street. She's seen him around the street a few times, sometimes out the front with his Mum. Kate's also seen his Dad briefly enough to identify him as Army, though she knows nothing more about him. Kate doesn't know much about kids, but she'd guess him to be about nine or ten, with a mane of floppy brown hair. When he spots her watching, he drops the edge of the ramp and steps closer to her, an anxious look on his face.

"Sorry! I didn't wake you with the hammer, did I?" He asks anxiously, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"The..." Kate stammers, looking puzzled. But a moment later she sees the tools he's left abandoned on the front grass. "You made this?"

"Yeah." He shrugs, though he looks proud of himself. "I like building stuff. I mean, it's just a quarterpipe. Only plywood and different..." He trails off. "Well, you probably don't really want to know everything. But it's for my skateboard. Do you know how to skate?"

Kate moves forward and touches the smooth wood. It's perfectly finished. "I don't even know how to ride a bike." She's not sure why she's confessing this of all things. The kid's eyes bug out of his face.

"Didn't your dad ever teach you?" He asks, and Kate wishes he'd at least blink, because his gaze is making her wish she'd simply passed on by. Swallowing hard, she shakes her head. She'd tried to teach herself once, when she was thirteen, on an rusty old bike she'd nabbed from a clean-up campaign. The wheels had been too flat to properly ride, and so small that she'd knocked her knees on the handlebars before she'd fallen and limped, dusty and embarrassed, back to her house. Mr O must have seen her because he'd offered to teach her, but she'd been too ashamed to accept and had never gotten on a bike again. The kid seems to recover quickly, his gaze turning to an eager expression. "Well, I can teach you if you like. It's easy! I mean..." He nods at her belly. "After your baby is born. It's a little hard to sit on a bike when you're pregnant, Mum says. And I can teach your baby too, if you like."

"You..." Kate doesn't quite know what to say to that. "Oh, well... you're definitely the only person that's offered to teach either of us. Shrimp probably won't be ready for bike riding for a while though."

His nose crinkles. "Shrimp?"

"Oh." Kate bites her lip. "Yeah, that's what I call it."

He nods solemnly. "Oh! Right! My Mum used to call my little sister Jellybean. But now her real name is Ellie. But sometimes I still call her Jelly. Or Jelly Ellie! But Shrimp is cool too. And it's extra good because you're Navy as well, so you go to the water." He sees her expression and adds. "I know that 'cause I saw you in your uniform! So you don't know if you're having a son or a daughter?" Kate shakes her head, barely able to keep up with the kid's mile-a-minute conversation. "I think it would be cool if it was a boy. Lily who lives... uh... there-" He points to one of the townhouses some three doors down. "-She just had a little boy too. They could be friends. But boys and girls can be friends too, so it doesn't really matter. And if it was a girl Ellie would love that too. And I can help too because I'm a good helper with babies, so I can help feed it and stuff. I'm Tony by the way!"

"Uh..." It takes Kate a second to realise he's stopped. "Hi Tony. I'm Kate." She pauses for a moment, searching about for something to say, but she's running a complete blank. After an awkward moment she settles on, "So... you like to build stuff? What else have you built?"

Apparently this is a good question to ask, because his face lights up. "Lots of stuff! I just finished a beehive for the garden. I already made a birdhouse. And me and Dad made a billycart. And he helped me make a xylophone for my sister for her birthday. She's one now! Ellie likes music. It makes her smile. Um... I like to pull apart bikes too! But sometimes it's not all just my stuff. I do stuff out of packets too, like model cars and planes and things. I just like putting things together."

Kate can't help but smile at him. "Well, hey, you ever want to put a cot together, let me know." She jokes.

"Really?! Yes please, I'll do it!" He cries eagerly. "I can help you now if you want."

"Oh. Um..." Kate stammers, taken aback. "Well, I was..."

"I'll ask Mum now!" He cries, running to the door before she can say another word.

Kate pauses for a moment, completely struck by the bizarre turn of events. But then her face breaks into a smile as she pulls out her phone and shoots a text to Libby.

**_Well, I found my handyman. _**


	14. Chapter 14

If you had asked Kate, all those months ago, when she'd first arrived in Canberra, where she thought she'd find herself… well, befriending a nine-year-old certainly wouldn't have been on her list of expectations. But nonetheless, Kate finds that, in spite of everything, Tony (and by extension, his family) soon become a permanent fixture in her life. Whether it's simply the hurried hi-and-bye that accompanies busy parent-of-two's and a working neighbour, or an in depth discussion on anything from the most impressive skateboarding tricks (Tony), to the best brand of nappies (Tony's mother, Heidi), or even a bizarre and mostly non-verbal conversation Kate is fairly sure was about the neighbour's cat (Tony's one-year-old sister Ellie), soon Kate finds she's seeing them almost every day. Which is how she finds herself, one Wednesday afternoon, walking back from the park with Tony, her belly preceding her as they made their way along the footpath.

Tony is lazily dribbling a football (_soccer _ball, he'd corrected her, when she'd eagerly brought up Liverpool F.C without thinking and he'd had no idea what she was on about) along in front of him, and has a shopping bag looped around each wrist, having absolutely refused to let Kate carry them. She hadn't intended to walk with him, but he'd seen her leaving the corner store and had jogged to catch up with her, taking the bags from her. So Kate, with her protests of _it was only a ten minute walk_ and _the weather was so nice_ and _her bags really weren't that heavy because it was just a few things_ being dismissed carelessly by the kid, had huffed in surrender and instead wrapped her hands around her middle in a futile attempt to take some of the weight off her hips. Every day she's finding herself bigger and bigger, and more than once she's wondered whether she'll simply explode one day.

Tony's loyal dog, Pippa, is trotting along behind them, occasionally lifting a leg against a clump of grass or a light post, even though it seemed the tank had long since run dry. Every so often, her wagging tail slaps against Kate's legs, or her wet nose nudges at her hand, and Kate brushes her fingers lazily over the dog's head to scratch her ears (although she suspects that the dog's sniffing has less to do with an eagerness for affection and more to do with the Vegemite and cheese scroll she'd devoured at the shops.)

So Kate walks obediently alongside Tony, swallowing down the comments she's longing to throw at the world in general, who are treating her more like a fragile piece of china and less like a capable and independent human being everyday, and instead makes an effort to be nice. She chats with Tony about how he's finding school, and what Ellie is up to, and about what his Dad is doing in his RAAF job before the conversation once more lapses.

She's never quite sure about why he likes her. After all, objectively speaking, she doesn't have much in common with the kid. She'd expected Tony to run for the hills after putting up the cot (in about five minutes, no sweat), but instead he'd stayed and chatted with her about where she'd moved from, and what she'd done in the Navy, and his family and her favourite songs and a million different things before dragging her to meet his family. And even though she really liked Tony, she couldn't quite shake the feeling of inadequacy. Not to mention fear. She could talk to Tony, but she was under no allusions that raising her child would be as easy, and late at night, those dark thoughts would find her and torment her. What if, just as Kate did, her child grew up resenting its mother? What if, like Kate, they were burdened with the weight of their parent's own failures?

"What's for dinner, Kate?" Tony asks, breaking the silence between them and effectively rousing Kate from the dark tangent her mind had gone to. He rattles one of the bags in curiosity, before his cheeky grin grows. "Wait! Let me guess! Is it pasta again?" He turns to examine Kate's expression and, at Kate's slight nod, rolls his eyes in such a Libby-esque way, Kate finds she wouldn't be surprised if Libby had hired the kid to watch over her. He sighs with the heaviness of a ninety year old man and turns to her in exasperation. "You know, Kate, that's not the best food to have all the time. We've been looking at the food groups at school but I don't think pasta every meal is very good for you."

"I had a salad for lunch!" Kate defends, as they make their way through a laneway and onto their street. It wasn't technically a lie - she had made herself a rather basic yet delicious chicken salad (okay, so the chicken _had _been purchased already cooked, but it was still _chicken_). She neglects to mention her afternoon Vegemite scroll. "You nag well beyond your years, kid. You sure you haven't been possessed by the spirit of a twenty-four-year-old woman named Libby?"

Tony seems undeterred by her defensiveness. Blatantly ignoring Kate's outstretched hands, ready to take her shopping back, he instead leads the way towards Kate's front door and clicks his tongue in irritation. Kate, feeling like there's been a serious role reversal in who is the adult and who is the child, follows obediently and digs in her pocket for her keys. "You know, I could teach you how to cook. I mean, I don't like it as much as making stuff outside, but I can make some stuff and I could help teach you." Tony offers kindly. "Stay, Pip! I'll be back in a couple of minutes." The dog waits obediently on Kate's driveway, tail thumping eagerly and sniffing at the soccer ball, and Tony turns back to Kate. "I made a really nice chicken stir fry last week, with mushrooms and capsicum and zucchini and it was really good. I can lend you my cookbook. It's for kids so it's pretty easy. You should be okay."

Kate's not sure whether this is a thinly veiled insult or a perfectly sincere offer from Tony; she never could tell with him. She turns her attention instead to unlocking the door and holding it open for Tony, who moves forwards to deposit the two shopping bags gently on top of the bench. "Thanks, Tony." Kate settles on. "And… for the shopping too."

He waves away her thanks, eyes darting around the room. She's not too sure whether it's Tony and his family's influence, but Kate has found herself striving harder to settle into Canberra. She'd finally finished unpacking the rest of her possessions, and had headed out to the shops to purchase little nick-nacks to fill in the emptiness. She hadn't bought a lot, and nothing too extravagant, but it was enough to fill in the cold emptiness. Now she has a few indoor plants to bring a bit of life in, pictures of her friends and The Olinsky's and Shrimp in different frames, and pretty candles to sit on the windowsill. Slowly, gradually, her tiny townhouse has started to feel more like a home. Tony moves forward to better examine a photo of Kate and Libby, shrugging in a nonchalant way. "It's okay. Besides, I was going to stop by anyway. I needed to ask you something."

"Oh. Okay." Kate moves to the cupboard and retrieves a glass. "Want a drink?"

"It's okay. I've got to get Pip home and do my _homework _now anyway." He rolls his eyes slightly at the word, suddenly looking much more like a kid than he had a moment ago. "Mum said I could play soccer until 1630 but then I had to be back afterwards." The corners of Kate's mouth twitch at Tony's use of 24-hour time, and she glances instinctively towards her own watch. Catching her gaze, he grins. "Don't stress! I still have five minutes. Anyway, I was going to tell you not to make plans for Friday night, because you're invited to our house for dinner." As he speaks, he glances towards her giant wall calendar. Under today's date, in bright red letters, are the words **12 WEEKS TO GO!** "We're having a barbecue because Dad's coming back and we're celebrating. I was telling him all about you and I wanted you to meet him. So write it on your calendar! Also, what's your favourite colour, and what colour are Shrimp's sheets and stuff going to be?"

"Oh…" Kate blinks at the invitation. She's getting somewhat more used to the overload of information that normally comes with Tony, but it still takes her a little bit to process it all. "Uh, I like green, Shrimp's stuff is grey and white stripes mostly at the moment, and um… maybe if your Dad is coming home it should just be you four together. I'm sure he'd just want to talk to you and Ellie and your Mum-"

"But he wants to meet you too!" Tony argues. "Besides, other people will be there. But I _really_ want you to come!" He turns back to look at her, a mischievous look on his face. "There'll be _real _food!"

"Pasta is real food!" Kate protests, though she can't quite contain the smile on her own face. "Is this an invitation or a demand?"

"Demand!" Tony's hair flops around his face as he gives her a look that plainly says _duh._ "Anyway, I gotta go do my homework. But I'll see you 'round!"

* * *

Kate scans the shopfronts, desperate for inspiration to strike. She had already bought some nice wine and chocolates for Tony's parents, but was intent on finding _something _to say thank you to Tony for all his help over the last few weeks. Something that reflected the love and care that Tony has shown her, because, after all, she didn't know too many kids that would show as much care in her as he has. Desperate, she'd driven to the shopping centre, hoping that something would present itself as the perfect gift, but she's already traipsed through a book shop, two toy places and an electronics store without success. With aching feet (dammit, she should have just caved and worn the pair of bloody thongs at the door, but of course she'd stubbornly pushed her feet into her sneakers), heavy limbs and a bowling ball in her middle, she's fast losing any inclination to shop.

Just as she's close to tears (damn these bloody hormones), her phone rings, and with a mixture of relief and excitement, she hears Boxer's teasing tone greet her. "_I can't believe Libby and I have been replaced by a nine year old of all people_." He says without so much as a preliminary hello, and Kate has barely enough time to get over the shock that, after all this time, she's finally hearing his voice again, before she's laughing at his standard sense of humour. _"And after I got you off the meth, took you in off the streets and saved you from that warlord who shamelessly used you as a cheap-"_

"Oh, spare me the theatrics, Box!" Kate giggles as she tugs at her dog tags. "How are you? _Where_ are you? What have you been up to?"

_"Geez, I'd forgotten how much you bloody yap."_ Kate rolls her eyes, even though he can't see her. "_I'm good. Busy, but good. We're just ashore for a quick refuel and 24 hour leave and I thought I would take advantage of a phone line to give my bestie a call."_ He sniffs for a moment, then, as if he's chemically unable to finish a sentence without teasing her, adds, _"But I typed in the wrong bloody number and got you instead."_ Kate snorts. _"And as for where, can't enlighten you very much. Sorry. Classified." _Not at all put out by his inability to disclose details, she continues.

"Oh, it's so good to hear your voice! Emails aren't the same."

He laughs. _"Don't get all sappy on me now, Princess. Those hormones are messing you up something fierce. Or is it hanging out with kids all day that's got you in touch with your emotions all of a sudden?" _

_"_Hey, as I recall it was _you_ in tears at the airport saying goodbye to _me_."

"_Hey, there was definitely a few tears threatening to spill down your cheeks too!" _He chuckles. _"So, what are you up to? I hear other voices. You crash a kids' birthday? Hit up a Toys 'R' Us?" _

"No!" Kate shifts her handbag more securely on her shoulder, considering disclosing her mission of the day and weighing up whether the inevitable teasing would outweigh any chance for help. Deciding that, on the whole, Tony is worth it, she decides to tell him. "Well... you're kind of on the money with the toy store. I'm... I'm trying to find something to buy him, actually. _Don't laugh!" _She adds, as Boxer lets out a snort. "But... but he's been really helpful. And if you have any suggestions that don't involve usual Boxer-Shenanigans, I would like to hear them. Because Late Night Shopping is scary!" She sucks in a deep breath, and adds, "And consider your words carefully, or I might assume this teasing is simply a thinly veiled way of you covering the fact that you're actually jealous of a child."

His chuckle rings through the phone lines, and her heart aches at just how much she misses him, despite the fact that he's also a smartarse apparently determined to cram weeks' worth of teasing into one phone call. _"Calm down, Princess. Just commenting on the fact that you seem to have acquired more loyal subjects to fawn over you."_ Kate rolls her eyes and moves to one side to allow a woman with a double stroller pass. One of the kids waves at her, and she waves back, before Boxer speaks again. _"Anyway, you know the kid better than I do. Why are you asking me?" _

"Because I naively assumed that you might just remember _something _to do with what you enjoyed doing when you were a child."

There's a pause as Boxer yawns loudly, before chatting once again. "_Hey, I went surfing pretty much every day, and that was it. That and karate. I think you're kind of short on beaches in The City That Always Sleeps." _He seems to think for a moment, before answering in a slightly more serious tone. "_Sorry, Princess. I'm no good with this stuff. Ah... maybe ask Lib? She's down with the kids, isn't she?" _

"She's out on patrol. And he's probably slightly out of her usual demographic. She taught preschoolers. You know... _Play School and_..." She hesitates for a moment. "... is _Sesame Street _still on?"

"_Damn, Girl. You're going to have to get up to speed with all this before you pop. Or you're going to get judged by the other soccer mums." _He hesitates for a moment. "_Are you in a shop yet, or are you still standing in the middle of a shopping centre looking like a creeper searching for their next target?" _She doesn't answer, but makes a sudden beeline towards a Target store. "_You just moved, didn't you?" _He laughs. "_What about just a hardware store voucher? You said the kid likes building shit." _

"Yeah..." Kate fidgets with her hair as she makes her way into the toy section and scans aisle after aisle of pointless plastic crap. "I don't know. I was just hoping to get something a little more meaningful, you know? I mean, he and his family keep giving me stuff and it... it's so cute and actually thought out. Like... he bought me a stuffed prawn toy for the baby. Goodness' knows where he got that from."

_"Okay, I'm running off... like... two hours sleep here, Kate."_ Kate can just picture Box, dragging a hand over his chin, brow furrowed. "_Why a stuffed prawn?_"

"You know... _Shrimp_?" Kate smiles as she recalls another important detail, nudging a fabric _Elmo _doll with a finger. "Tony named him. So now, my baby is the proud owner of Homer Shrimpson."

_"Okay, that's pretty great." _He concedes, before his tone turns back to something that might resemble a child whining at their mother._ "Geez, I don't know, Kate! I think you're going to have to ask an expert." _There's a pause, then, "_How's Shrimp going, anyway?" _

"Yeah..." Kate wanders aimlessly down another aisle, not feeling particularly inspired by anything on the shelves. She has to flatten herself (as best she can with her enormous belly) against a shelf of Barbie Dolls to avoid copping a flying fist from a toddler screaming at her mother, who was trying desperately to pry a doll from her daughter's hands. Praying that she never has to deal with anything like that, she switches her phone to the other ear and moves on quickly. "I had another ultrasound." Kate informs him. "All seems normal. No issues with any tests or anything. Now it's just the waiting game. 12 weeks left."

"_You find out what you're having?_"

"Nah. I didn't want to know." Kate rubs a hand over her stomach once more. She's found herself doing that more and more each day, drawing comfort and confidence from the life growing within her. "I just... I don't know. Some days I think it's a boy, and then others I think girl and... I really have no idea. But... I'm okay about that. It'll be a surprise."

_"I mean, ideally, it will be one of the two."_ He teases, before adopting a dramatic tone. _"It just seems odd that you of all people, Princess Perfect, such a control freak-"_

"Am not!" Kate scoffs, as the mother passes her once again, carrying her screaming and flailing daughter.

Boxer sounds unconvinced. "Kate..._ I've seen you colour coordinate your socks to the pegs you hang them up with." _

"That's not weird!" She can practically feel the waves of judgement coming at her from the other side of the world. "Okay, so I have some quirks but..." She pauses, because she can't quite bring herself to argue with him. She's missed his teasing too much. "I wish you could be here. For all of it."

"_I miss you too, Kiddo_." There's muffled noises through the phone, and someone else's voice, before Boxer returns. "_Shit_. _Look, Kate, I'm gonna have to go sort something out for _ANZAC_. But what __about science-y stuff? He seems like a curious kid. What about... like... those kits you can get to wire up light bulbs and fans and shit?" _

Kate frowns, intrigued. "Does that even exist?"

"_I swear! One of the guys bought one for his kid. It's all different..." _Kate can just see him flailing around, trying to find the words. "..._I don't know, Kate. But you can build circuits and stuff. And it's supposed to all be designed for kids. I don't know where you get it from, but it's a thing. If I can find out where he got it from, I'll email. Maybe eBay?" _

"Thanks." She leans against a support pillar, smiling even though he can't see her. "I can't wait 'til I can see you."

_"The minute I'm back in Australia, I'm flying to see you and Shrimp, okay?"_ His voice cracks slightly, but he clears his throat. _"Love you, Kate." _

"Yeah." Kate fidgets with her dog tags, tugging at the chain. "Love you too, Box."

* * *

"You know, Shrimp, we need to have a serious conversation about you keeping me awake." Kate groans, rolling onto her back and staring up at the slither of light shining on her ceiling through the gap in the blinds. "When the sun goes down and I lie still, _that's _when you and I need to sleep." She finds herself tracing shapes upon the top of her skin. Flowers, butterflies, boats, clouds. As though the stories she's tracing on her skin will permeate through the layers and mean _something _to her kid.

Shrimp, who has taken 0200 hours as the optimum time to do somersaults and practice judo kicks for the last two weeks, gives no indication that they're at all bothered by Kate's words, except to push a limb hard against her. Kate presses her hand against the spot where the limb (she's fairly sure it's an elbow) is, and a moment later feels Shrimp move beneath her skin once more. "You know, it would be much more helpful if you did this during the day. Then maybe it wouldn't be so hard to stay awake during all of the boring stuff."

She's not all that bothered by it though. She likes feeling Shrimp moving, relishes in that reminder that there is life inside of her. She can't deny that she'd gone through the stage of feeling like she'd given up her future. But when Shrimp moves... well, she's reminded that she's doing something _much _more important.

She stretches her legs for a moment, continuing to speak into the darkness. "You'll be here soon, Bub. Living life on the outside with me." She muses. "Tony asks me a million questions about you. Aunty Libby and Uncle Box have been sending you clothes and toys all the time in the mail. Everyone's waiting for you, Little One." Of course, she hasn't quite managed to silence those dark thoughts that linger late at night. The ones that keep hissing that motherhood just isn't in her DNA, or that all she can offer Shrimp is this townhouse and a lifetime of baggage. But she's getting better at hushing it. "I'm... I'm not going to be the funniest Mum, or the warmest. I... I don't even think I'll be the sportiest or the most creative or the kindest. But I'm going to be here, Shrimp. You're... you're going to be so loved."


	15. Chapter 15

She wonders whether there is anything sadder than looking out for a nine year old to keep her company at a party. In her defense, she's not _entirely _pathetic. She's done the rounds throughout the house at least, has introduced herself to an Army couple three doors down that were chatting in the front room, and has spoken to Heidi too, though briefly. Heidi is as glamorous as ever, her long auburn hair secured in a large black hair clip, with her many usual beaded necklaces and bracelets. Her long skirt is swishing as she darts around the kitchen, calmly managing to organise at least four separate dishes at once. Kate had offered to help out in the kitchen, but apparently Tony has already taken to spreading tales of her culinary ineptitude and she'd been quickly but kindly shooed away. So, with Tony's electronic kit (she'd managed to find one at a local automotive store) clutched tightly in one hand, she makes her way back down the hallway, deciding she might as well circle the yard a few times.

She pauses, though, her attention caught by the collage of photo frames on one wall, and she moves closer to get a better look. Simple really, how one set of photos can cast doubt on her every decision, but of all things that has caught her eye, it has to be a maternity shoot. Heidi is younger, though looking every bit as beautiful in a simple white cotton dress, grin splitting her face. And even in these scattered images, she's struck by how in love Heidi and her husband look. They're simple moments, really, captured forever in frame. His hands on her swollen middle. Him pressing a kiss to her belly. Her head resting on his shoulder. And it hits Kate that she will never have images like this to share with her child, nothing to give evidence to the fact that she had once loved Mike Flynn.

Loved. Or was infatuated with. Even now, she's not quite sure. She hates that. The uncertainty clouding the memories she'd once believed she'd hold dear to herself forever, and she finds herself doubting their past. Had Mike really looked at her with such care in his gaze, or had she simply invented it? Had he really taken her hand first? Had he ever cared for her?

"Kate!" Kate whips around, taking a step back, as though she's been caught stuffing their cutlery into her handbag or something. But there's no accusation or anger on Tony's face (_of course there isn't_, she reminds herself. _You were just looking at some damned pictures!_) Tony is beaming at her, and moves closer to wrap her in a quick hug. "I'm so glad that you came!" Kate barely has enough time to drag herself out from her thoughts and (should she hug him back? God, her arms were still dangling awkwardly by her side) half-move her free arm up in an attempt at a friendly gesture before he's pulling away and glancing at the pictures. "That's when Mum was pregnant with me." He explains unnecessarily. "My auntie Meghan is a photographer, so she took them. The photos were taken at the Jellybean Track up in Glenbrook. That's where Dad was posted before we moved here. We used to go there a lot of weekends when I was younger but then we moved here so we couldn't anymore." He looks up at her, his curious expression in place as usual. "Have you ever been there?"

Like it normally does with him, Kate's mind has to work quickly to absorb the flurry of information. "Uh... not there. I went to a cabin with a couple of friends but we were higher up in the mountains. Up past Leura."

He nods thoughtfully, shuffling on the spot like he's readying to sprint. "Dad used to say everyone further up than Springwood was crazy. Something in the water. But I don't really think that's true." He seems to ponder his father's view for a moment, scratching absently at his elbow.

Kate doesn't really know what to say to this bizarre (and yet, according to Boxer, accurate) statement, so she holds out the gift bag for him. "This is for you, Tony. To say thank you."

Tony's eyes widen as if Kate's just handed him a live unicorn. "You didn't have to do that, Kate!" He looks up at her, and she finds _she's_ the one this time that wants to wrap him in a hug. Eyes wide in sincerity, he murmurs, "You know I _like _helping you."

Kate settles for ruffling his hair affectionately. "I know." She assures him. "But I just wanted to get you something to say thank you. For... for being such a great friend to me. It really means a lot, Tony. You're an amazing friend. And..." A hand touches her middle for a moment, "...we're _both _lucky to have you in our lives."

If she wasn't so anxious about whether or not he would like it, she might have laughed at the excitement on Tony's face at the word 'friend'. But she's realising properly now that she's never really bought presents for anyone before. Sure, she would shout Boxer and Libby drinks, and she'd bought a few little nick nacks for Mr and Mrs O before. But something about this feels different. More important. Tony takes the gift gingerly, as though worried it might shatter, and looks inside. "Oh, _wow _Kate!" He extracts the box from the bag, turning it over in his hands. "This is so _cool! _I always wanted to know more about electronics and stuff." He looks up at her, his tone getting faster in his excitement. "I made Ellie a jewellery box for when she's older, but I wanted to know how to make it so it would play music when it opens and this will be able to help so much and it's _just so cool,_ Kate! I love it! Thank you thank you thank you!"

"I'm... I'm glad you like it." Kate manages, feeling a huge weight lift from her shoulders. Before she's registered, he's wrapped her in another hug, but this time she holds him tight. And if you'd told her, a year ago, that Princess Perfect would have cherished a friendship with a nine year old _this _much... well, she wouldn't have rested until they were RNIN'd for mental instability. After a moment he laughs. "What!?" She splutters.

"Shrimp's kicking my shoulder." He giggles, scrunching up his nose as he laughs. "They must have wanted a hug too."

She feels Shrimp move away inside of her, and she finds she quite agrees with Tony's reasoning. "I think you're right." She agrees. For a moment the two - _three - _of them just stand and enjoy the unity of the moment. And then Tony pulls away.

"I can't wait to show Dad! Hey, come outside! There's food and... and lots to do. Do you have a favourite food? I like the mini quiches Mum makes." She allows herself to be lead away by the overzealous Tony, and follows him out into the yard. Dozens of twinkling coloured lanterns have been strung up throughout the trees, and groups of people are clustered together in bunches, chatting happily. She catches brief snatches of Tony's many woodworking projects - birdhouses and beehives in the trees, Pippa's doghouse and an impressive looking tree-house - but has no time to stop and admire them, or to fully absorb Tony's gabbled flurry of words. _"That's Mr and Mrs O'Brian. He's Air Force too. And Luke and Benji are Army. And Carter is SAS but he lives with Max who's Navy. And Sarah and Cora and-"_ Blinking in the complete sensory overload, she finds herself dragged along until suddenly Tony stops and she finds herself standing opposite the very man she'd just seen in the photographs. "This is my dad!" Tony says, stating the obvious, for Tony was the spitting image of his father, from the dimpled smile to the same brown hair; the only difference was that, where Tony's hair was long and floppy, his father's was cut to Defense Force Standards. "Dad, this is my friend Kate. The one I was telling you about. Hey, Dad, look at what she got me!" He holds out the box excitedly for his father to see.

She can't quite pin down why she's so nervous. After all, she's met strangers before. Maybe it was because this meant so much to Tony. Whatever the reason, Kate finds herself straightening taller and trying to look as respectable as possible. "Hi." She holds out a hand. "Uh, I'm Kate. Kate McGregor. It's great to finally meet you, Sir."

His eyes twinkle, much in the same way that his son's do, and he waves away her words. "Oh, it's Dale. It's just great to meet you. Honestly, I feel like I know you already, Tony's told me so much about you." Dale turns to examine the box, and Kate can see that Tony-esque level of excitement in Dale's eyes too. "This is _awesome_." He declares, much in the same way as his son had. He turns to Tony. "You think your mother would catch us if we snuck off to play with it now?"

"Yes, she definitely would!" Heidi interjects, appearing behind their little group, her many necklaces swaying. Dale mouths _oops _at Kate, who can't help but laugh, but humour twinkles in Heidi's gaze too. "I see you've been introduced to the famous Kate."

"Famous?" Kate repeats, cheeks flushing at the introduction. "Not likely."

"Well, I don't know." Dale grins, smiling widely at her. "I _have_ heard stories about the famous Princess Perfect in defense circles before. Top of ADFA-"

"Oh, God." Kate mutters, dragging a hand through her hair. "Don't bring that up, please." She begs, because Tony looks as if he's going to explode with excitement, and she thinks she might just die with embarrassment if Dale carries on. "I promise you I'm not that interesting. Besides," She gestures to her belly. "I'm just a glorified secretary-slash-incubator now."

She shuffles her feet awkwardly, wishing that the conversation would revert back to Dale, or _something _other than her. However, Dale seems to wave away her self-depreciating comments. "Hey, your name is on quite a few trophies at ADFA. Don't put yourself down. Besides," He too gestures to her middle, "A job's a job, but what you're doing... bringing new life into the world... it's the greatest, most admirable mission there is." He ruffles his son's hair. "It'll change your life, being a parent. You've no idea."

She doesn't quite know why the statement sends her eyes watering. She covers by muttering something about something in her eye that she's sure no one (except maybe Tony) believes, and by the time she's gotten a hold of herself and straightened up again, cursing her hormones, Tony is gabbling excitedly about his gift again. "Dad, can we play with this tonight?" Tony begs, taking the electronic kit back from his father and turning it over. "Look, you can make a car and... and an excitement buzzer and just _lots of stuff!_"

Dale looks just as eager as Tony, but catches his wife's eye and smiles indulgently at his son. "I reckon you're going to be zonked after all this excitement, T-Rex. Tomorrow, hey?"

"Ooooo-kay." Tony groans in a weary tone. "I'm going to put it in my room then. Thanks, Kate!" And he disappears, leaving Kate alone with Heidi and Dale. The two watch him go, smiling lightly, and Kate finds herself struck again by the unity they seem to radiate, and the way they simply fit. But it isn't long before the unfairness of it all, that Shrimp deserves a world full of people to love them and support them, and yet has only her, weighs on her yet again.

"You okay?" Heidi asks, nudging her lightly with an arm and drawing Kate from her thoughts again.

"Yeah." She nods, pulling herself from her dark thoughts once more and forcing a smile to her lips. "Yeah." She repeats, trying to convince herself as much as them.

* * *

An hour later Kate finds herself seated on a wooden bench, underneath the twinkling lanterns, a snoozing Ellie in her arms. The young girl's red curls kept tickling Kate's cheek as she snored softly, long eyelashes fluttering and reminding Kate of one of the many baby cherub statues Mrs O used to collect. Kate shifts somewhat, wondering how the young girl can possibly be comfortable with her legs bent at odd angles and Kate's enormous belly in the way, but Ellie sleeps on, her warm weight comforting in Kate's arms.

Soon, she will be able to hold her own baby to her, and feel Shrimp's warmth against her. And for the millionth time, she finds herself imagining what they'll look like, be like. Every day she changes her mind with the infinite possibilities in the genetic lottery. Sighing softly, she turns her gaze back to Ellie, trying to simply focus on the moment, and unconsciously, her breathing starts to match the slumbering infant's. Amazing, really, how at peace she can feel simply watching her as she sleeps.

"Won't be long 'til you're holding your little one like that." Dale's voice snaps Kate from her reverie and she looks up at him, feeling slightly abashed gazing at someone else's child with such adoration. "Sorry." He adds, seeing her reaction and looking just as worried about upsetting her as she had him. "I didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to make sure you weren't just trapped by my little one."

"Oh." Kate throws another glance at Ellie before turning her attention back to Dale. "No. Not trapped. Just... just sitting. She came for a cuddle and just crashed on me." The hand that isn't holding Ellie darts to her dogtags, fidgeting uncertainly. After all, it _was _a bit odd, she supposes, to pick up a random child and let them sleep on you, even if she'd met Ellie before.

But Dale simply chuckles lightly, and Kate feels herself relax. "That's our Ellie. Running around at a hundred miles an hour one second, and fast asleep the next." He cranes his neck slightly to peer at his daughter's face for a moment, before turning back to Kate. "You know what you're having?"

Kate shakes her head. "I don't even have any inklings. Some people say they knew they were having a boy or a girl but... honestly I have no clue." She absentmindedly brushes a curl from Ellie's face. "As long as they're healthy, I'm not fussed." Feeling her usual self-depreciating humour emerge as it always does when she's anxious, she adds. "I'm sure I'll manage to traumatise any child regardless of their gender." What does it say about her that she can speak freely to Tony, but having a conversation with an adult sends her into a babbling mess. Trying desperately to regain herself, she asks, "Did you and Heidi find out what you were having?"

Dale shakes his head, leaning against the trunk of a tree. "Nah. It didn't really seem that important to us. We both knew we wanted kids. Neither of us really minded what we had."

"Where'd you two meet?" Kate asks, then winces. "Sorry, if that's an intrusive question. I just wondered."

Dale laughs, waving away her embarrassment. "Nah, it's fine. We met in high school." He turns his gaze for a moment towards the rest of the crowd, where Heidi's auburn head is just visible in the flickering light of the lanterns. "We were fourteen when we started dating. Knew the moment I met her that she was the one for me." He turns back to Kate, and she sees that same loving look that had been captured in the photographs. "Married when we were nineteen, even though everyone warned us it wouldn't last. But... I knew she was the one."

"Wow." Kate murmurs softly.

He takes a swig of his beer, laughing softly to himself. "Sorry. I'm over here gushing about Heidi like a goofball. I promise, we're not _nearly _as schmucky a couple as I made us out to be."

Kate smiles at him, trying to find the right words. "No, it's... it's nice. To know that love like that exists." She turns her gaze back on Ellie, still sleeping peacefully in her arms.

"Did you love this one's dad?" Dale asks, and Kate looks up in alarm. Immediately, Dale's face drops. "Shit. Sorry. Now I'm apologising for asking questions. Uh... you don't have to answer if you don't want-"

"It's fine." Kate hastens to assure him, thinking for a moment. Six months ago, the answer would have been obvious. But now... "I thought I did?" She can't help voice the words as a question, and she hates that it's almost like she's seeking his approval. "But... I'm not so sure anymore. Not having him here it..." She tucks a clump of hair behind her ear. "Well, I think some days I loved the _idea_ of him more than I loved him. You know?" She rolls her eyes at herself. "I hope that I can be as good a parent as you two. Tony and Ellie. They're... they're great kids."

"You will be. Look at what you've done for Tony!"

Kate shakes her head. "I don't know what you're thanking me for. Honestly!" Her hand returns to her dogtags again. "_He's _the one that helped _me _out. Honestly. I've done nothing but buy him a little toy and-"

"You've done so much more for him than that." Dale interjects, making Kate feel like even more of a fraud. "You don't believe me, do you?" He presses, and Kate scoffs, shaking her head. Dale drains the last his beer and begins picking at the label, suddenly serious. For a moment he hesitates, as though trying to find the right words. "The kindness and patience you've shown Tony... Heidi and I... we can really see the difference in him. He's happier, he's... he's doing better in school. You did that, Kate."

She has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. Even so, something of Kate's skepticism must show in her face, because he keep talking. "Tony... he's never really had much luck with friends. I don't know if Tony has told you but... but when he was two he... he was diagnosed with leukemia." Kate can't help the gasp that escapes her as her eyes snap to his. It's almost impossible to imagine Tony as anything more than the energetic, active and healthy boy she knows now. "He spent the better part of three years in and out of hospitals and... and for a while we thought we'd-" His voice cracks slightly and he breaks off, shaking his head. "When he got back to school he'd missed so much and lost a lot of his friends. Even then he was so socially behind it was... it's been really hard for him. He was so used to being around adults that he never really knew how to interact with kids his own age. And most adults don't really have time for a kid wanting to be their friend." He smiles at her. "It's been a while since he's been... well... since he's been able to say he has a friend. A friend that cares for him and values him like you do." Dale rakes his hand through his hair. "He calls me and tells me all about how you help him understand his homework, and... and how you talk to him about school and encourage him. How you made him feel better after he had a really hard day at school or... or how you taught him how to say 'good morning' in all the different languages."

"But that's just..." She begins, searching for the right words, but Dale shakes his head.

"It's not _just _anything. Not to us. And not to Tony. It might not seem like much to you but... it means a lot to him. And to Heidi and I too. So... thank you, Kate. Really. Thank you."

Kate nods solemnly, humbled by his words. "I guess... I guess we're both the same, in a lot of ways." Kate murmurs, more to herself than to Dale. But at his questioning look she continues. "I mean, I wasn't sick or anything like him but... but I never really fit in either, you know? And... and Tony dismisses helping me, saying he's only put together a cot but... but it means a lot to me too. I mean, I was struggling. I'd... I'd spend all my time shut up in my room reading or at work or plugged into my music. But I guess... I've come to think of this town as _home_ more since. And I don't think I'll be able to ever repay him for that."

"Kate, that's what I'm trying to say." Dale murmurs. "You already have."

* * *

She doesn't sleep much that night, tossing and turning, her dreams riddled with images of Mike, and a sick Tony, and a million other things that have her in a daze for most of Sunday. Unfortunately, they linger Sunday night too, and by the time Monday morning rolls around, she's about ready to down a jug of coffee and just hope that Shrimp dances it out throughout the day.

"Damn. Been out partying? You look wrecked." Winter observes as Kate sinks heavily into her chair and jabs at the power button on her computer with none of her usual enthusiasm. Taking a gulp of her thermos full of cordial, she raises an eyebrow in his direction and his smile fades. "I mean... you look amazing?" He stammers.

"Thanks." She murmurs sarcastically, smoothing the end of her shirt, which is pulling uncomfortably against her middle. She makes a mental note to order in yet _another _larger size. No doubt soon she'll be wearing a marquee to work. Adopting a sugary sweet voice, she adds, "It's the no sleep and no coffee beauty regime!" She frames her face with her hands for a moment, posing, before turning back to type her login. "Can't sleep. Just been thinking too much." She turns to her middle. "And this one's not helping. Bloody using my internal organs as kickboards." Winter offers her a jar of jellybeans with an expression akin to someone hoping to save themselves with a sacrifice. Kate rolls her eyes. "Seriously? This early in the morning?" She hesitates for a moment, then takes a handful. "Thanks. So, what'd you and Macy get up to on the weekend?"

"Macy has decided we need to paint the house." Winter murmurs, as he too taps at the keys on his computer. "So, we've been discussing whether _Fizz _or _Pastel Mint _will go better in our bedroom and they all bloody look the same to me. So I suggested _Applegate _and judging by the expressions I got, I accidentally committed treason in the process." He drags a hand through his hair. "I should send you over there. Aren't mothers supposed to go through a nesting stage?" He shakes his head. "I hate painting."

"Why? It's fun!" Kate protests, dragging forwards her first file from the pile to log.

"Are you kidding?" Winter turns to stare at her in bewilderment, ticking off his points on his fingers. "First you have to clear all the furniture, then you have to wash the walls, rinse them, mask, first coat, second coat, not to mention all the fighting in between-"

"Okay, I get it!" Kate laughs. "Geez, you're a whinger." She drums her fingernails against the desk. "And this program isn't responding _again."_ She adds with a groan. "Can't the Navy update their software?"

"Apparently we're still living in the stone age." Winter stands up so he can lean over and see her monitor. "Kindest thing for these old computers would be to put a bullet in them." He muses, taking his seat once more. "You'd think with all the money we spend on tech-" But he cuts himself off as the phone on his desk begins to ring. Picking it up, he says, "Commander Stevenson's office, Lieutenant Winter." Kate zones herself out as the program begins to respond and she dutifully begins her work, but- "One moment, I'll transfer you." He taps a button on his phone and turns to her. "McGregor, it's a message for you."

"For me?" Kate frowns at him, wondering why anyone would be going through official channels to contact her.

"Yeah. Line 2."

Puzzled, Kate picks up the phone and murmurs, "Lieutenant McGregor."

"_Urgent message for Lieutenant McGregor from Commander Olinsky." _A voice responds, and Kate's knuckles tighten on the receiver. "_Come home urgently. Elle in hospital." _


	16. Chapter 16

She drives on autopilot, her mind working on overdrive as it turns over all the horrible, twisting, gutwrenching possibilities. And she probably hasn't set foot in a church since she was christened, but she prays to anybody who will listen to her that Mrs O will be okay. She's struggled with uncertainty most of her life, but she _knows _that a world without Elle Olinsky in it is worse off, and surely if there was _any _deity listening to her now, they would know that too.

She's tried calling the house, with no answer, Mrs O's cheery answering machine message seeming to mock and comfort her in equal measures, and even as Kate turns the volume of the radio up louder than she can bear, she finds she can still hear Elle. _We're not here at the moment... _What if she's never there again? Kate has to fight the urge to squeeze her eyes shut at the terrible thoughts, only succeeding because she knows it would be beyond reckless when she's speeding down a motorway with Shrimp kicking away at her. Have they picked up on her terror and anxiety and regret?

If Mrs O doesn't return (she has to swallow the urge to be sick at _that _horrible thought) then Kate has wasted the last six months hiding from her. And it strikes her now just how many precious moments she's shared with O in the past, and how many more she's squandered away because of her own damn pride. And she'll never know Shrimp...

"If she's okay," Kate says aloud, not knowing exactly who she's praying to, "...then I'll never run again. Okay? I'll own my mistakes. I'll... I'll never disappoint her again. Just... let her be okay. _Please_." She punctuates the words by gripping the steering wheel tighter and tighter, and it's odd, really, how it hasn't yet crumbled beneath her grip.

On and on she urges her car, knowing full well she's over the speed limit and, yet, not really caring. And she finds herself making deals with fate, desperately searching for signs from the universe. If she can count three blue cars by the next speed sign, then Mrs O will be okay. If the next song on the radio is sung by a woman, then O will live. And the logical part of her knows that the street signs and passing traffic have nothing to do with whether she survives or not, but Kate still bargains, because at least it gives her the feeling that she's doing something, rather than being here and now and so hopelessly helpless to control the outcome.

It seems to cause her physical pain as she turns off the motorway and has to negotiate through traffic, each red light an omen of doom. Her head is pounding, protesting against her clenched jaw and hunched posture, but she ignores it. And she finds herself drumming her hands on the steering wheel, tapping her feet and biting her lip, as if, if she keeps _herself _moving, it will be enough to urge the car on. When she's stuck at the same intersection for two cycles, she has to actually open her door to vomit pathetically on the road, unable to hold her composure any longer.

By the time she pulls up to the house she's a nervous wreck, every fibre of her being near breakdown. She's managed to stop crying at least, but a quick glimpse of her reflection in the car window shows that her face is still puffy and blotchy. She'd tugged her hair from its work bun somewhere along the drive and it's out and flying around her face from the amount of times she's run her shaking hands through it. She'd also just changed carelessly out of her uniform and pulled on the first thing that she could reach in her bedroom with no thought for comfort or style. Now that she takes a moment to actually process, she sees she's tugged on a plain black singlet and jeans. It's not even a singlet that she's worn recently, and it clings uncomfortably to her pregnant profile, the hem riding up just short of her jeans, and the top more low cut now than anything she'd normally wear. Suddenly feeling the cool breeze as the sun disappears, she tosses on a jacket that had been stuffed carelessly into her bag on the back seat and peers around.

She's not quite sure what she's looking for. Blood spattering the front step, perhaps, or some other evidence of a horrific accident. And as she moves closer she finds, stupidly, she's looking out for some sign of an unconscious form. She's expecting broken glass and potplants knocked askew. She's searching for weapons and intruders, maybe even a crime scene. But the house looks just as it always does, and she makes her way cautiously up the front steps. She's just raised a hand to knock, however, when a voice distracts her.

"Can I help you, Love?" Kate whips around and spies a woman peering at her from the next yard over. Kate's obviously interrupted the old woman in the act of gardening, a pair of pruning shears held loosely in one hand. "You're after the Olinskys?" Her eyes narrow after a moment, as though she's considering Kate some sort of burglar.

"Yes." Kate moves closer, hands tugging at her dog tags. "I heard Mrs O... uh... Elle was ill."

"Yes, indeed." The woman agrees, scratching at her chin with a garden-glove-laden hand. A streak of dirt stains her chin. "Sad business. A lot of ruckus. I was making tea at the time and-"

"What happened?!" Kate interjects, knowing that she's probably being rude and yet not caring. "Please." She adds as an afterthought.

The woman seems to be slightly offended all the same, her tone slightly more clipped and terse. "Well, I wasn't aware anything _had _happened until the ambulance arrived. Heart attack, I think." Kate sways slightly on the spot with those last few words, and has to throw an arm out to catch her weight against the fence. "Maybe you should sit down?"

"No." Kate shakes her head, still tugging at her dog tags. "Uh. Thank you. Do you know where they took her?"

* * *

The last place she wants to be is back in her car, especially navigating to a hospital she's never been before, but she manages it fine, with the only casualty her nails as she bites them anxiously. Yet again, her mind occupies itself by making deals with gods and searching for signs from the universe. An odd number of cars across the intersection, and she'll be fine. Two hairdressers in the main street, and everything will be okay.

She's surprised, too, at how easily she manages to find a parking space, and she wastes no more time as she moves quickly though the doors and towards reception. "Hi, I'm looking for Eloise Olinsky." She gabbles, the moment the receptionist beckons her forwards. In some, twisted part of her mind, she muses that she's most likely finally succeeded in speaking faster than Tony. "She was brought in yesterday by ambulance. I need to know where she is please." The man behind the desk looks barely older than her, with a disinterested look on his face. "It's _O_linsky. With an 'O'." Kate presses, when he fails to move immediately, drumming a hand on the counter impatiently.

He taps at his computer for a moment. "Level four, room 421."

"Thank you." Kate mutters, on the move yet again.

* * *

Kate slows to a walk as she reaches the cardiac corridor, her gaze glancing at each door, catching inadvertent snippets of everyone else's lives. Snatches of conversation reach her ears, their disjointed words adding to the discordant buzz inside her own. And it strikes her that there are probably hundreds of people in this building feeling the exact same terror and uncertainty that she is, hundreds of people whose lives have been thrown into uncharted waters just as hers has. The knowledge does nothing to make her feel any better. In fact, it only seems to emphasise just how cruel the world was, how quickly everything anyone held dear and true in the world could be snatched away in an instant.

If she was too late...

If Elle was...

She has to swallow the urge to be sick again as the numbers on the doors pass by her in turn. _416\. 417. 418. _

And then she stops at the sight of a woman seated alone on a bench against a window. Her head is bowed, her face hidden, but her figure is horribly, crushingly familiar. Her blonde hair is still as long as ever, the soft curls cascading down and covering her face. And Kate has a sudden memory of her own hands running a brush gently through it. She's still as small and slim as ever, maybe even more so, her shoulder blades sticking out through the fabric of her t-shirt like butterfly wings. And she still radiates that same level of smallness, as though she were a child dressing up in her own mother's clothes, rather than an adult.

Almost seven years. Seven years since Kate has seen her mother, but she's sitting here in this bloody hallway, and Kate has no idea what to do. She wants to run, hide, to pretend that she's never even been here and seen evidence that the woman still existed, was still entwined in Kate's life, no matter how hard she wished that Donna wasn't.

_You think you'd be fucking better off without me?!_

The accusation still rings in Kate's ear as though it were yesterday, and she flinches in spite of herself, as though the woman of yesteryear was screaming it in her face again.

Was this all a trick? Some twisted story to get her here and force a reunion? God knows Donna was never above manipulation or lies to get what she wanted. Shrimp is kick kick kicking against her and her heart is pounding and all she wants to do is run, to forget this whole stupid day. But at that precise moment Donna looks up and their eyes lock. Kate hates that she instantly recognises the sight of fear in Donna's gaze. Not only because it confirms that this is not a setup, that Elle Olinsky _is _really ill. Not only because her mother's first instinct at seeing her is negative. But the fact that Kate recognises the expression straight away as the same of her own. More than anything, the reminder that they were still related, regardless of the animosity. For a moment, the two just stare at each other, each fumbling for words to say, or actions. And then, pushing herself to her feet, Donna breaks the silence.

"Katie." There's no time to hide, no time to prepare herself for what she's supposed to say. Instinctively, Kate raises a hand to her dogtags and tangles the chain through her fingers, as though it's a shield against the cracked words directed to her in that all-too-familiar Liverpool accent. She hadn't prepared for this. Had been ready to face Elle and Rowan, ready to own her mistakes. Had even gone over every possible scenario of Elle's fate. But this... Donna... _this _was something she could never have anticipated, and she takes another instinctive step backwards, as though the greeting had been a threat. Donna's hand travels to her wrist, scratching absently as she struggles with what to say. "I... oh, you're so grown up."

"That's the funny thing about time." Kate murmurs softly, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her as though it will protect her. "I'm not seventeen anymore."

Donna bows her head solemnly, sending her hair cascading over her shoulders and in front of her face. She seems to digest the words for a moment, before nodding slowly. "I deserve that." She murmurs, twisting her hands around and around. "And worse. I know... I know I let you down. I-"

"I'm here for Elle." Kate interjects. The unspoken _not you _hangs in the air.

Mutely, Donna nods towards the closed door opposite them, and Kate turns, her heart jolting at the _421 _etched across it. Arm outstretched, Kate moves towards it, but Donna speaks. "They're just getting her set up. They've only just moved her room after her operation. Rowan was with her. I just..." Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. "I thought it best to give them some privacy." Kate doesn't bother to respond. She has no interest in sitting next to Donna, swapping tearful apologies, so instead she leans against a wall a distance away, arms folded. "Katie, please. Could we talk? Just.. just for a moment." Donna sighs. "You're so beautiful."

"And just what would you like to talk about?" Kate twists to face her, eyes flashing as she finds herself spitting out the things she's longed to say for years. "About how you left? Or about how you slapped me the night before? Do you want to talk about what your puke smells like after a three day bender? Or perhaps how difficult it is to keep up rent and utilities at seventeen?"

"I'm not dismissing any of that. I know... I know what you went through was more than anyone ever should. But... I just want another chance to be your mother-"

"But you don't get it! I needed you back then! I needed you to be a mother when Dad died and you brought me here. I needed you to be a mum when I was ten and dragging your unconscious form down the hallway. I needed you to be a mother when I was hungry or scared or cold. When I was tired or confused or lonely. But now..." Kate shakes her head. "Now, all you are is a reminder of a shitty life." She tugs in irritation at her jacket, unzipping it and turning back around a moment before she realises her mistake. There's a soft intake of breath, and Kate twists to see Donna's gaze fixed on her middle.

"You're... you're pregnant?" Kate's hands wrap around her middle, as if she can hide it from view, from Donna's memory. But even though she hates it, she can't stop herself from taking in the expression across Donna's face. She's not sure what she's looking for, really. After all, she's long since given up seeking any sort of approval from Donna McGregor. But she still feels an ache at the way Donna's face twists in pity instead of joy. She has to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from yelling at Donna that her baby was a gift, a precious gift. "Oh, Kate. You're only twen-"

"Don't!" Kate snaps. "Don't start talking like I've ruined my life. This... _this_ is none of your business. It's _my _baby." She hates that the look in Donna's eyes still lingers. And she realises with a dull ache that she's always felt like this, in Donna's eyes. That she was never good enough, no matter how hard she tried. Never pretty enough, or smart enough. Never social enough. For years, Donna had nagged at Kate to _lighten up, _or chastised her about the way she wore her hair, and the people she hung out with. And it strikes Kate now, that she's never felt approval from Donna in all her years. Never.

"Elle and Rowan never told me." Donna murmurs, before tipping her head. "Are you keeping it?"

"Of course I'm keeping it. I love them enough to be a mother." Kate spits, opening her eyes and turning in disbelief to Donna, even though the last thing she wants to do is engage her. She'd always done that, too. Needle Kate until she couldn't hold in her retorts any longer. "Just because you couldn't doesn't mean I can't. I'm not you! I don't need a guy or alcohol to make me feel happy."

"No!" Donna shakes her head, looking tearful. "I didn't mean... I didn't say that right." She tugs at her hair, twisting several strands around and around her finger. "I just... I want you to be okay."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I got a call saying Mrs O was in the hospital. That is the _only_ reason I'm here. Because when someone you love needs you, you put them first!"

Donna moves forward, arm outstretched. "Katie-"

"Do not touch me!" She doesn't realise how loud she's gotten until she turns around and sees more than a few faces turned their way. Clearing her throat, she takes another step back. Lowering her voice once more, she hisses. "My baby is _none _of your concern. _None. _I want nothing to do with you. You're poison. You always have been. And I want you to leave me alone. You hear me?"

Donna seems to compose herself for a moment, then shakes her head in that same pitying way. "Just so you know... I loved you so much. More than you'll ever know. I... I'll wait downstairs. And..." She smiles sadly at Kate. "Congratulations on your baby. I know you're both going to be very happy."

* * *

She can't sit still after Donna leaves. Her mind is still reeling, turning over random words and phrases that Donna has thrown at her, not just now, but throughout the years too. Memories are flashing before her eyes at random, a mixed reel of happy and sad, bitter and precious, until Kate can no-longer tell how she's feeling. Part of her wants to scour the hospital until she finds Donna and seek an explanation, comfort, reassurance. But another part of her is burning with fury that Donna would even set foot near Elle.

She's still sick with worry, still angry and tired and aching all over. She just wants to sleep, wants to hide away and wake up when everything is clear and decided, and Mrs O is definitely okay. She closes her eyes for a moment, resting her head in her hands.

_You think you'd be fucking better off without me?!_

"Kate?" Kate jumps to her feet at the sound. Her vision protests the sudden brightness after being hidden in her hands, and she blinks furiously as the form of Mr O comes into view. She can see the expressions flicker across his face. Shock. Confusion. Gratitude. Anger. Then... indifference as he looks away. It's an expression she's seen in Donna enough to recognise, even if she's never seen it in him before. It very nearly knocks the breath out of her.

"Mr O." She whispers, almost as if she's not quite sure she has the right to. And for a moment they both just stand in silence, his gaze fixed determinately at his feet while hers desperately try to seek his out. Some distant part of her brain is screaming at her that her jacket is unzipped still, her swollen stomach as plain as anything, and she braces, waiting for the explosion of anger. Elle had shown her all the love and kindness in the world, sure, but it was Rowan that had inspired her to join the Navy, he who had pushed her to strive harder and stay in high school. And now... now she had let him down, and the confrontation she'd hoped to delay forever was here. "I..." His expression is cold. None of the familiarity she was so used to. Hell, he's treating her like she is a stranger. "How's Mrs O? How are you?" He shifts his gaze to fix on a spot just above her, with that same cold gaze, while the fear and shame wells up still higher in Kate. More for something to do rather than any real coolness, she zips her jacket up again, even though she knows there's no hiding her condition from him. The damage is done. "Is she okay?" Kate repeats, her voice shaking with the effort not to break down completely. "_Please_."

"Elle had a heart attack." Mr O's voice is flat and emotionless, as though he were relaying a status report of an acquaintance, rather than his wife. Somehow this scares Kate more than the anger she was expecting. "Doctors performed an angioplasty and inserted a stent. With medication and monitoring she should make a recovery."

Kate sags with relief, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. She lifts a shaking hand to her mouth, a relieved smile splitting her face. "That's great. That's-"

"What are you doing here?" He interrupts, and Kate freezes. Her eyes seek out his own, hoping for _some _means to determine how he's feeling, but he's still as unreadable as ever. "Lieutenant McGregor, I asked you a question." He presses, and she flinches.

"I..." She stammers, hands tangling in her dogtags once more. "I got your message."

"Which one?" He spits coldly. She flinches again. The chain of her dogtags scrape backwards and forwards along her neck.

"I screwed up, Mr O. I know that. But-"

"Where have you been?" He's speaking to her as though she's nothing more than a junior sailor who's somehow managed to tangle themselves up in a lifevest or something.

Kate hesitates for a moment, fixing her gaze once more on her feet. "Canberra." She shifts her foot slightly. "I've been working at _Harman._"

He nods for a moment, in that same way he always did when he was thinking hard. She wants to say more, wants to tell him just how much she loves them both. She wants to apologise, wants to see Elle. Wants so much and yet fear keeps her frozen in her spot, waiting for the lecture that is sure to come. "I didn't realise that _Harman _was a black site." He says eventually.

Kate frowns, puzzled at the statement. "What? It's not. It's..."

"Oh." Mr O shakes his head and gives a cold laugh that expresses no emotion. "No phones there, then? No way to let us know where you were? Or have you simply been held hostage since you left Watson's Bay?"

A lump is forming in the back of Kate's throat. She wants him to look at her, to see how sorry she is. But he's still staring resolutely at the spot above her. "I'm sorry." She feels tears flood her eyes. "Rowan, please."

But he locks eyes with her properly for the first time since she'd arrived. There's none of the familiar warmth she was so used to in his gaze. The lame apologies and explanations she'd readied herself for all die in her throat. For a moment, they simply stare at each other, her mind turning over how she can possibly express to him how sorry she is. But a moment later, he breaks his gaze, and without another word, strides back down the hallway, leaving her quite alone.


	17. Chapter 17

She doesn't feel like a Lieutenant, or a mother, or any of the other things she's tried to convince herself of. As she watches Mr O's retreating back, she doesn't feel like anything but a stupid, selfish child. She's Kate McGregor, the worst person in the world, who deserted the only people who ever truly cared about her. Kate McGregor, who threw away the second chance that life threw at her. Kate McGregor, yet again disappointing those around her.

And how can she be a mother, now, when she's done exactly what Donna did to her? How can she crave forgiveness from the Olinskys, knowing exactly how it feels to be left behind, to not know? How can she command any respect in the Navy ever again, after throwing away the respect the Olinskys held for her? And how can she ever make it up to them? Guilt is twisting her up inside, until it's a physical pain, and she looks away from the empty corridor bitterly, as though it had been the very walls that had turned him against her.

_Disgusting. Ungrateful. Awful. Cruel._

She doesn't need to hear him speak the words to know that that is what he is thinking. How could he not be? It's what she is, after all.

_Selfish. Stupid. Slut._

Her arms are wrapped tight around her middle, as though without that anchor, she will drift off into nothingness. But rather than the vague feelings of confusion and loss, all she feels is anger. At herself, and Donna and Mike, and she has to fight the urge to rage and scream. She wants to kick the walls and flip chairs. Wants to howl and yell, wants someone to understand just how terrible she's feeling, how mixed up she is inside. She wants to feel Mrs O hold her and tell her everything will be okay. Wants Mr O to be able to be proud of her again. Hell, for him to even be able to look her in the eye feels like the miracle to end all miracles right about now. But what right does she have to ever feel these things again? What right, in fact, does she have to ever feel relieved of this guilt, when she deserves every second of it and more. So much more.

She'd known that, deep down. That the happiness she'd felt with Mike, and her sense of purpose in the Navy, and her place in the world, surrounded by friends and family was too good to last. Had known that fate was a fickle bitch, and that the peace she'd felt in her very identity would eventually cost a great cosmic debt. She'd just never expected this. The loss of the one constant male in her life. He'd never walked away from her before. Always, _always _he'd stayed, had helped her out. She can't bear the thought that she's pushed him too far, that he might never forgive her. All those times he'd sat with her, helping her with assignments in high school, or going over her application to ADFA. All those gentle reassurances he'd given her, all those simple moments side by side watching TV, or showing her all those life skills that no one else had been around to do. Hell, she can still see the proud look in his eyes when she'd first told him she wanted to join the Navy, wanted to be just like him. But now... now she's thrown it all back in his face. And for what? Two weeks of delusion.

She doesn't know how she can even start to make it up to him. 'Sorry' is just too pathetic a word.

She leans heavily against the wall, and has to fight the urge to allow herself to slide down it and curl into a ball on the ground. She wonders vaguely what the people around would think and do at the sight of a second trimester woman refusing to budge from the floor. Call for psychological backup, probably. A nice white padded room for her, revoked of the responsibilities of simply being _her. _But she knows she can't. Knows she needs to push on, and it's sheer stubbornness that keeps her standing, fighting, pushing onwards. Should she chase after him? Her feet shift slightly, but she doesn't move. She owes him the decency of at least allowing him to process her arrival. Even Donna had given Kate that.

Donna.

She hasn't even begun to consider what her being back means, if in fact she even _is _back. And if she _is, _then why? Part of her - the part that still shudders at the smell of menthol cigarettes and whiskey and can still feel the cold of bathroom tiles against her skin as she tries to find a safe place to sleep... well, she's only seeing the worst. A scam, perhaps, or revenge, for some reason or another. Donna had never needed much of an excuse to hate somebody. But the other part of her, that inner child whose tongue had shaped so many excuses in the past - wants to believe that Donna could have changed, could actually have good intentions and care for Elle. But this brought forwards other questions, other dark thoughts. Why could Donna get better for Elle, go through rehab and come back for Elle, be a decent human being, when she couldn't even do it for her own daughter? A hand reaches out and touches her belly again, and she finds herself, bizarrely, thinking, _I hope you're a boy, Shrimp. _McGregor women just weren't that good at raising daughters. Donna had been kicked out by her mother, after all, for daring to fall pregnant out of wedlock, even though she herself had done the very same.

_A curse, _Donna had told her once, as she'd puffed away at a menthol on the front verandah on another too-hot day. Kate had been fifteen, about to go on her first proper date. Donna had been drinking steadily, straight from the bottle. Speaking to Kate as though the teenager was going to an orgy with Dean Harrow rather than just the movies. _There's a fucking curse on this family. So keep your legs shut, Katie. _Even now, Kate can remember sitting throughout the entire movie, feeling hot and dirty with shame, as though simply holding Dean's hand was inviting chaos into her life. In the end, they never even kissed.

A squeaking of hinges tears Kate from her thoughts, and she whips around in time to see the doors to Mrs O's room open and close. Her eyes are blurred and unfocused from pressing down on her eyelids, and she has to blink furiously to try and discern an identity. And for a moment, in spite of everything, she turns, expecting to see her in the doorway, perhaps apologising for the messiness of her hair or else lamenting the waste of a good gardening day. But it's not Mrs O- of course it's not - and Kate finds herself instead face to face with a kind looking nurse.

Kate wonders whether the woman is a mother. She certainly looks old enough to be, and Kate finds herself wondering what type of mother she is. A kind hearted one, or the type to turn her back on her child. Then realises just how ridiculous she's being, reliving moments of years ago that she can neither confront or change. Painting everyone with the ink of her own story. Judging complete strangers. Something must show on Kate's face, because the nurse stops in front of her, examining Kate with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?" _Sweetheart. _She's always hated pet names like that from strangers. _Sweetheart. Darling. Sugar._ As though she were a child rather than an adult. Kate's always looked young; she knows that. A tiny infant that grew into a scrawny adult. Hell, she still got carded every time she tried to order a drink. She wonders now just how young she looks with a face free of makeup and red-eyed.

Kate nods dazedly, swiping in embarrassment at her eyes. And she wonders whether the nurse is taking in her obviously pregnant middle, whether she is judging her. She could be taking in Kate's red eyes and bags under her eyelids, perhaps pulled by some professional duty. She could be searching for some dramatic story. Or she could be the loveliest person in the world, taking time to ensure the well-being of a stranger. A moment later, Kate reasons with herself that it doesn't really matter either way. Trying desperately to muster up some semblance of dignity, Kate nods jerkily. "I',m okay, thank you. It's been a long drive." She murmurs apologetically, dragging a hand through her hair and wincing as it snags on a tangle of knots. She doesn't remember packing a hairbrush. Catching sight of the scrubs and obvious _professionalism _in the woman's attire, Kate seeks out her gaze properly, gesturing at the door for good measure. "Eloise Olinsky... is she going to be okay?" She knows, of course, that Mr O had said she would and yet still she finds she needs to hear the news from someone else. "I mean, she's always been healthy, so that's good, right?" She hates the way that her voice rises. "She walks every day. She... she goes to the gym and does aqua aerobics and... and..." She trails off, hands tightening around her middle. She wonders vaguely whether, if she squeezes any tighter, she would simply crumble.

"Her vitals are looking good at the moment." The nurse smiles reassuringly, before gesturing towards the hallway. "Her doctor will be able to explain more about how things are looking long term." She pauses, peering more closely at Kate. "Are you sure you're okay, Sweetie?"

She has to bite her lip to stop herself crying, and, hell, how can she even have any tears left? She nods and ducks her gaze, trying desperately to swallow the lump in her throat. Allows herself a few seconds of breathing before she puts on the mask she'd worn at Watson's. The same mask she'd worn when she'd hidden her pregnancy from the world. And she lies. "Yes." She forces a smile. "I'm fine."

* * *

Kate doesn't ever remember Elle being sick. Of course, she knows logically that she must have succumbed to illness at some time or another in her life, but she has no memory of it. Mrs O had always seemed to be on the move, working or cleaning or gardening or baking - basically _anything _but sitting down. And even as she racks her brain now, Kate can't recall a single time in which Elle had been less than healthy. It had been Mrs O caring for her, picking her up from school when she'd come down with the flu, or else cooking her soups and puddings the time she'd gotten her wisdom teeth out.

Donna, by contrast, had often been found hidden under her blankets and groaning with a hangover, or else hunched over a toilet (if she even made it in time), and many of Kate's days and nights had revolved around caring for her. Popping tablets of pain killers from their blister packs, scrubbing out buckets, changing sheets. But Elle had been active and healthy. The sight of her now is a stark contrast to the woman she'd known, hooked up to nameless cords and tubes, and Kate stops dead for a moment in the doorway and has to lean against the doorframe to steady herself.

"Mrs O?" She murmurs, her voice cracking slightly on the words. It takes all the strength she can muster to force herself closer, to absorb every detail of the woman in front of her, but she refuses to look away. She won't break down, _can't _break down now. Not when she's caused Mr and Mrs O much more than this physical pain. She owes it to them now to see her, to take in what Kate herself had contributed to, because _surely _this was Kate's own fault. After all, she'd left. She'd caused the stress. And now Elle was here. And it hits Kate, suddenly, terrifyingly, that Mrs O will die. Maybe not today, but _someday_ in the not too distant future, and it's so stupid to be so blown away by this most basic fact of nature, but she finds that part of herself has always seen Mrs O as invincible, indestructible. Kate has to dig what's left of her shredded fingernails into her wrist to stop herself from gasping at the sight of her now, so fragile. "Mrs O?" She repeats, a little louder, hating how childish she sounds. "It... it's me. It's Kate." She sucks in another breath and moves closer, touching Mrs O's hand for the briefest of moments. "I missed you so much, O."

"How many times..." Mrs O murmurs, her voice slurred, but determined none the less. "...do I have't tell you t' call me Elle?" Mrs O's eyes open, just the slightest amount, before slipping closed once more, and Kate can tell it's costing her a huge effort to even speak.

Kate lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, moving closer and sinking into the seat next to the bed. "At least once more." Kate manages, taking Mrs O's hand in her own again and squeezing it gently. "Are - are you in any pain?"

"Jus'... jus' tired." Her eyelids flicker once more, and despite the obvious effort it's costing her, she tilts her head to get a better look at Kate. "I knew... come back."

"I'm sorry it took me so long." Her voice cracks as she tucks Mrs O's hair behind an ear. "Just rest, O, please." Kate murmurs softly, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. "Don't speak. We'll... we'll talk later. I promise. But just get some rest."

"Knew... you'd come." Elle murmurs again, and Kate feels tears pricking at her eyes again at Mrs O's blind faith in her, but she blinks them away.

"I'm so sorry for leaving." She whispers. Kate wants to tell her, here and now, just how much Mrs O means to her. She wants to swear to never leave again, wants to make sure that neither she nor Mr O are left another moment thinking that Kate didn't care about them. But she knows that now is not the time for that. So she simply squeezes Mrs O's hand and smiles. "I love you, Elle." She murmurs, as Mrs O's breathing slows once more.

* * *

She's too nervous to eat, too tired to do anything after the hospital but drive to the nearest motel. By the time she's checked in, it's almost seven. Nine hours since she'd first got the message that had brought her here. God, it feels like a lifetime ago.

She doesn't change clothes, doesn't even make the effort to kick off her shoes. She thinks that this day might have sapped every ounce of energy from her bones, and that she could gladly lay here for the next few years and not move. It's more than just tiredness. She feels rung out, exhausted. Completely at a loss for her next move, because she knows she can't leave things like this but for the life of her, she has no idea where to go from here. And over and over again, she sees Mr O's retreating back.

"I screwed up, Shrimp." Kate murmurs, tracing circles onto her middle. "I don't know if he'll ever be able to forgive me."

She closes her eyes for a moment, wishing that she could sink easily into sleep and stop turning over every moment of today her mind. Mr O's dismissal. Elle's health. And Donna. _Donna._ Of all the things she'd expected on this trip, Donna's return, Donna's _welcomed _return was the least of them. Kate curses and rolls onto her side, trying desperately to think of something... _anything _to make sense of this day. Of words important enough to help Mr O see just how sorry she was. But all she can think of is the disappointment in his gaze, and the cold dismissal in his eyes.

She doesn't know how long she lies there for, eyes staring at the wall without really seeing anything, while random words and phrases flit through her brain, made up phrases and things said today and those of years ago, all swirling around in her head, until she wants to screw up her eyes and scream. But she doesn't. She owns the pain, because that tar-like misery is back, the voice in her head telling her that she deserves this and so much more.

She clenches fistfuls of doona in her fists, tangling the fabric tighter and tighter. And then, just when she thinks her fingers will break, there's a sudden buzzing near her head. She throws a hand blindly above her, fumbling for a moment, before retrieving her phone. Snapping it open without looking at the caller ID, she presses it to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Kate?!"_ Libby's voice exclaims without so much as a greeting, crackly and panicked, but there nonetheless._ "I just got your messages. Oh my God!" _Kate has to wrack her brain for a moment, trying to recall exactly _what _she'd said in her messages, but then Libby adds, "_How's Mrs O? Are you in Sydney yet? What is going on?!" _

"Lib!" Kate exclaims in relief, sitting up. She knows that Libby is on the other side of the country and has no real way of helping her, but in this moment, her voice is a huge relief. Libby's always had that talent... able to bring her from the brink of a breakdown with a few simple words. "I'm so glad you called!"

"_I'm sorry it wasn't sooner, but I've only just gotten reception. Although not too confident on it holding up for very long. How's Mrs O?"_

"She's... it's her heart, Lib." The words sound childish, even to Kate's own ears. But for all the growth she's done over the last few months, she's straight back to feeling like a helpless kid. _It's her heart. _"She... she had a heart attack."

_"Shit."_ Libby curses, and Kate can hear her absentmindedly drumming on the phone in that same way she usually does when she's thinking hard about something. _"Is she okay?" _

"They said... probably. They were talking about... about stents and..." Kate drags a hand through her hair. Everything she'd researched, everything she knew about Mrs O's treatment seems to have flown out the window, leaving only that image of her, weak and exhausted in a hospital bed. "But she looks so sick and-" The guilt inside of her swells. "-and it's _my _fault, Lib!"

"_No!"_ Libby's response is instantaneous, but does nothing to assuage her guilt. _"Kate-"_

"I left!" Her voice rises several octaves, and she knows she's close to sounding hysterical, but guilt is dragging her down. "I changed my number and ran away and- and she had a heart attack! She could have died, Libby! She could - could still die and... and I put them through so much and just turned my back on them after they took me in and now she's sick-"

"_Stop!" _

"-cause I'm such a stupid whore-"

"_Hey!" _Libby's voice cuts across her, uncharacteristically stern. Kate wonders if she'd once commanded her classroom of toddlers in that same way. "_Stop! This is not your fault-" _

"But-"

"_No **buts**, Katie Eve! You called me for advice. Now shut up and listen!" _Kate freezes, trying desperately to control her breathing. Her whole body is on edge, crackling with electricity. _"You of all people know about the science of heart attacks. I'm sure you could recite all the factors that could affect the heart. You also know that Elle has had high cholesterol basically her whole life. So listen to me. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault!" _She spaces out the last five words, enunciating each syllable. "_Do you understand me?" _She pauses for a moment. "_Kate?!" _

"Okay." She murmurs, even though she doesn't really believe it.

"_Good."_ Libby takes a deep breath. "_Now, where are you?" _

"Some... some motel room." Kate drags a hand across her face, flopping back onto the bed once more. "I don't even know what it's called."

_"Who's there with you?" _

Kate lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, three guys I picked up at a bar. They saw my belly and huge fucking ankles and begged to come back with me." Her voice is still shrill and panicked, her pulse still pounding in her ears.

Libby doesn't comment at her sarcastic comments, but it helps to picture Libby rolling her eyes impatiently all the same. "_I meant where's Mr O? I thought you'd stay at theirs." _

"He... he doesn't want to see me, Lib." Her fingers grapple with the doona once more, clawing at the fabric like a street cat. "And... and Donna's there and he can't even look at me and... and everything's just shit, Lib."

"_What?! Of course Olinsky wants to see you-" _

"He... he blames me. And now that I'm pregnant..."

"_Kate, he could never hate you." _

_"_Well, he does." Kate croaks. "He couldn't even look at me, Lib. He was so disgusted."

Libby seems to digest the words for a moment, still tapping on the phone. _"Okay."_ She says eventually._ "So you sleep tonight. And then tomorrow-" _

_"_He won't talk to me, Lib!" Kate snaps impatiently.

"_Tomorrow, you try again." _Libby finishes calmly, as though Kate hadn't interrupted. "_For them. For yourself. And for Shrimp." _

* * *

She goes back to the hospital after forcing down breakfast - a bread roll from the bakery. She still has no inclination to eat, and it's about as appetising as cardboard, but she persists, knowing she needs to keep her strength up. She makes an effort with her appearance, too, tying her hair up in a ponytail and putting on a nice top, trying desperately to ignore the small voice in her head telling her that it will make no difference.

Yet again, she finds herself desperately searching for signs, bargaining with the universe. Three green lights and everything will be fine. Two blue cars, and it will all be okay.

_And I'll do better, _she thinks, squeezing the steering wheel tighter in her hands. _I'll be better. I'll never let them down again. I'll make nice with Donna, if that's what they want. I'll do anything. Anything. _And her mind drifts yet again, formulating career plans and child care plans, plans that will make them proud, that will show them just how responsible she can be. "I can be a Mum." She murmurs to herself, rubbing a hand against her middle for a moment. "I can have a career. I can do both."

She parks easily enough and makes her way towards Mrs O's room again, all the while keeping a lookout for Donna, on edge, as though she's suddenly going to burst out from one of the gardens, or leap out of a stairwell. Heart hammering, she peeks around the corner at the spot where she'd sat yesterday. But the chairs are deserted.

She's not too sure whether she's relieved or not. A moment later, however, she gives her head a little shake. The last thing she needs now is Donna getting under her skin once more.

And so, with one last deep breath, she pokes her head around the door of Mrs O's room. They're both up, Mr O perched in the chair next to the bed while Mrs O sits, propped up by pillows and swamped in blankets. And as she watches Mr O read her an article from the paper, Kate is struck by the domesticity of it all, and the love that the two of them share. And she has to fight the pang of loneliness and regret that she'd lost that.

Neither of them have seen her yet, and despite all her assurances to herself, she still has to fight the urge to run. But instead, she squares her shoulders and knocks lightly on the doorframe. Mrs O's face lights up the moment she sees her. "Kate!" She exclaims, waving her into the room, and Kate finds herself trying to detect Elle's health from the tone of her voice. It's slower, more tired-sounding, but even though she still looks less put together than she normally would look, she's Elle, and she's awake, and that's enough for Kate. "I'm so glad you came!" Kate moves tentatively closer, and she finds she's half-dreading her very arrival will trigger some other great setback to Mrs O's health. And she must sense this, because she adds, more quietly. "I'm okay, Lamb."

"You... you look better." Kate stammers, taking a few more steps forward. "I... I'm so glad you're okay."

"I'm okay." She affirms, smiling softly. "A good thing too, seeing as I'm forcing down a pharmacy worth of pills every few hours."

"They're doing you good, Elle. Stop fussing." Mr O chastises, though the corners of his mouth twitch good-naturedly. For a moment, Kate allows herself to entertain the notion that everything will be okay, that maybe Mr O was just stressed from the day's events, overwhelmed with worry about his wife's fate.

"H-how are you, Mr O?" Kate turns to face him, but the smile slips from his face as quickly as if Kate had hit him.

"Fine, thank you." He mutters curtly, and Kate finds herself wrapping her arms tighter around her middle, like a safety net. He brushes his hands on the fabric of his pants, before fussily closing the newspaper and setting it neatly on the end table. "I'm going to get a coffee." He mutters. "Excuse me."

"Rowan!" Elle hisses. "Don't!" But Mr O doesn't turn around as he makes his way past Kate and slips through the door, once again dismissing Kate as coldly as though she were a stranger.

Mrs O watches him leave for a moment, before forcing a smile in Kate's direction. "He'll come around." She murmurs, sounding as though she's trying to convince herself as much as Kate. It's an apology more than an assurance. "It... it's been stressful, all this."

Kate wants to agree, wants to believe what Mrs O is saying is true. But she ducks her gaze. "What if he doesn't?" Kate speaks aloud her fear, not meeting Mrs O's eyes. Mrs O says nothing - what is there to say, and for a moment the two of them just sit in the silence of a future neither want. Until Kate can't stand it any more. "God, I screwed everything up. I'm... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, O!"

"Come and sit down, Kate." Mrs O winces slightly as she shifts, before catching Kate's eye. "I'm okay. Not going to break. And you look dead on your feet." Kate follows obediently, perching in the seat next to the bed. Now that she's here, she finds she doesn't know what to say, and she feels like her middle is a giant neon sign that neither of them are mentioning. She's come so far since she'd first sat in that hard chair in the doctor's office, has worked her way through each stage of denial and anger and fear and is now looking forward to being a mother. But being here now has brought all of those old fears back and she keeps her arms wrapped tight around herself.

"How are you today?" Kate murmurs.

"Still a bit sore." Mrs O murmurs. "But I'm better."

"That... that's good." Kate digs her nails into her wrist. She doesn't know how to bring up Shrimp to O. Doesn't know how to even begin to speak about all that has happened to them both. "Elle, I should have been here. You... you could have died." More than anything, it's been the _what if_s that have haunted her the most, the endless possibilities of an earth without Elle Olinsky.

"This is not your fault." Elle says the words in the same, decisive tone that Libby had. She wishes she could believe either one of them.

"Mr O doesn't think so." _I don't think so, _she adds silently. "He's so mad at me."

Elle seems to consider Kate's words for a moment. Then she says, "Do you remember that time that Rowan caught you and that Thomas Finch kissing outside the movie theatre?"

Kate is too surprised by the mention of this long-ago instance to flush at the embarrassment of it. "Yeah." Kate murmurs. "He chased him across three streets away from me."

Elle nods solemnly. "Rowan wanted to tear him apart limb from limb. You weren't... you weren't even living with us then. But you were still his little girl." She winces as she shifts slightly, moving closer to Kate. "I think this... seeing you pregnant-" Kate can't help but flinch at the word, even though Elle sounds perfectly calm "-and... and about to be a mother. He wasn't expecting this so soon. He wasn't expecting to have to say goodbye to his little girl."

"I never wanted him to feel that way. I'm... I'm still _me._" She rubs a hand against her temple. "I just didn't want him to be ashamed of me."

"He could never be ashamed of you, Kate. _Never." _She leans back against her pillows, her eyelids heavy. "I'm going to rest. And you... go and see Rowan. Talk to him."

_So soon? _She's not prepared, not even remotely in the ballpark of knowing what to say. There's so much preparation to do. "He doesn't want to see me."

"Kate..." Elle seems as though she's about to say something else, but then stops herself. "He does." She says simply. "You have no idea how much. Just try, okay?"

* * *

Kate spies him immediately, seated alone in the cafeteria with a styrafoam cup held loosely between his hands. She realises that, in her earlier panic, she hadn't really taken that much time to examine him. Now that she looks at him, she sees just how much older he looks. More weatherworn. Before, he'd always radiated this air of wisdom, like he could solve all the world's problems if they were brought to him. Now, she's struck by the fact that he is, regardless of all his brilliance, an old man.

It does nothing to assuage her guilt, as if this natural aging process was being added to the long list of things that were her fault. Though, wasn't it? After all, she'd been the one that had caused a lifetime of stress and extra work that had fallen to them. She hesitates for a moment, then slides into the seat opposite him. It's not decisiveness, exactly. Just the knowledge that if she doesn't do this now, she never will. He looks up at her for a moment, but then ducks his gaze once more. "Are you hungry?" He asks the table, in that same impersonal tone he'd used the night before. "I suppose you've traveled a long way. I can get you a sandwich or-" Kate shakes her head. "-a drink? Do you need a rest?"

"I'm okay." She murmurs, fiddling with her dog-tags. "Please can we talk, Mr O?" He doesn't give any response to her question, affirmative or negative. "I know... I know I've been..." There are so many words she wants to tar herself as. So many horrible things she's done. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"You ran away."

"Yes."

"You changed your number."

"Yes."

"You broke off all communication with us."

"Rowan-"

"How far along are you?" He spits the question at her. As if the timeframe matters.

"I'm due in a couple of months." Kate murmurs.

He seems to consider this for a moment. "So you were pregnant at Watsons?"

"Yeah. I... I found out then." He shakes his head. "I know you're disappointed in me." She says, when he says nothing. "I know I... I let you down, and this isn't what you wanted for me."

He looks at her for a moment, and there's such a look of disappointment. "Don't, Kate."

"I know... I know you think I've thrown away my career, especially after everything you guys did for me. But-" Kate wraps a hand around her middle. "I can still have a career and a baby. I-"

"Do you honestly think that's why I'm upset?!" He rounds on her. "You disappear off the face of the earth. For months we tried to get in contact! For months Elle and I were at our wit's end, wondering whether you were okay! And now you stroll in like nothing has changed-"

"I..."

"And you want to stand there and apologise for ruining your _career?!_" He slams a fist upon the table, sending the liquid in his cup rippling. Kate flinches at the impact so harshly that she bites her tongue. "Elle wouldn't eat! She couldn't sleep! She was calling hospitals and police and was stressing out of her mind! We did nothing to deserve that! Nothing! I'd leave messages with your boss and with Libby and Boxer. We both made ourselves sick with worry and it's not until she's on death's door that you can be bothered to let us know you're even still _alive._" Kate flinches. She's never seen him this angry. "And when have Elle or I ever been disappointed in you? Huh? When have either of us ever given you any reason to think that we would turn our backs on you and this child? Do you honestly think that little of us?"

"Of course not! You... you both saved my life! I could never repay-"

"Don't!" He snaps again. "I'm sick of you talking like that. Like there's some debt that needs to be repaid. We didn't take you in because of some transaction or... or expectation of repayment. We did it because we love you! And _this _is how you repay us! By running away like a child! And you think with behaviour like that, you're ready to be a mother?"

"I didn't..." Kate stammers. "I... I didn't mean it like that." She drags a hand through her hair. "I know you wouldn't..." She swallows. "I just... I didn't want to tell you that everything you did for me was put on hold because I was pregnant."

"I don't care how many kids you're knocked up with! I don't care if you're two minutes down the road or on the other side of the country. Hell, you want to leave the Navy and join a circus, then that's your _damned _choice! Elle and I have never wanted anything other than your happiness! But you-" He jabs a finger in her direction. "_You, _young lady, you pick up a phone and you do us the common courtesy of letting us know our daughter is not dead in a ditch somewhere!"

Distantly, she's aware that people are staring, that they're in the middle of a hospital cafe. But all she can think about is that she's never seen him like this before. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Rowan shakes his head, reaching forwards to seize a napkin. He tears it roughly in half. "Who's the father?"

She'd expected the question, and has her answer ready. "It doesn't matter."

He shakes his head. "So you'll protect him?"

"Maybe I'm protecting myself."

"Oh, you never needed protection from _anyone._" He shakes his head, still tearing angrily at the napkin. "Who is he, Kate?"

"I can't tell you. Not until..." She tugs at a strand of hair and corrects herself. "...not _unless _I tell him first."

"And are you going to?"

"I don't know."

He shakes his head. "He's in the Navy, isn't he?" He meets Kate's eye. "Elle said something but she said it was over. She said-"

"He's not important." Kate repeats.

"So you're doing this by yourself?"

"Yeah." Kate fidgets. "I know I'm young. But... but I've got a house. A job." She seeks out his gaze. "I can do this, Rowan."

He lets out a snort of laughter. "There you are, second guessing us again. I have no doubt you can do this, Kate. That's not the issue at play here." He shakes his head again. "Tell me who the guy is."

"Why?"

"Because I want to bloody tear his head off for touching you!" Rowan snaps.

"Can you..." Kate pauses. Forces herself to breathe. "I know I hurt you. And I'm sorry." Rowan makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, but Kate keeps speaking. "You and Elle are the only people who..." She shakes her head. "I never had anyone believe in me. Or love me." She bites her lip. "I didn't tell you at the start because I was ashamed. I... things had ended badly with the guy and then I found out I was pregnant and... and everything I thought I'd do in life..." She trails off. "I was going to terminate the pregnancy. And... and I was doing that so no one would ever know. And it seemed cruel to tell you when you and Elle tried so much to have a child of your own." She swallows hard. "But I couldn't do it. And suddenly telling you meant a whole other..."

"How could you think we'd ever be disappointed in you?"

"Because... because I've had a voice in my head for as long as I can remember telling me I'm not enough. Because me having it all without sacrifice feels like I'm challenging fate to take it all away. Because... because I wouldn't have gotten into the Navy or even finished high school without the both of you and I didn't want to tell you that I'd thrown it all away for some guy. This... this isn't what you planned for me. This isn't what _I _planned for me!"

"We would have been there for you."

"I know!" Kate's voice cracks. "I know that now. I... I knew that _then._ But..." She looks away once more. "It took me so long to come around to the idea that I was going to do this. And then... it was easier to hide. Because if I did then... then I wouldn't have to see you disappointed."

"Oh, Kate." He looks up, and Kate sees that there are tears in his eyes.

Sniffing too, she digs in her bag for a moment before tugging out the latest ultrasound picture. "That's Shrimp." She murmurs. "That's your grandchild."


	18. Chapter 18

She feels taller as she stands in the kitchen at the Olinskys. Taller in a way that doesn't just revolve around her height. Hell, if she's actually thinking about it in terms of inches, she doesn't think she's grown since she was in high school. Well, not vertically, at least. But it's a feeling of growth all the same. Maybe mental growth, she supposes. Or emotional. Her perspective seems to have shifted in the time she's spent away from the house, as if it had been years since she'd last been here, rather than months. Maybe it's the sight of Rowan in the kitchen instead of Elle that's making her feel odd, or the mere fact that, with her middle sticking out like there's a weather balloon stuffed under her shirt, it's more difficult to maneuver around the benchtops and cabinets. Or maybe it's just that so much has happened since she'd last been here. Whatever it is, the house feels warped somehow, like a mirror image rather than the original.

It's not uncomfortable, exactly, or unsettling. Just odd. But as she looks around the room, she feels comforted by each familiar trinket and piece of furniture - the cuckoo clock on the hutch, the photos tacked to the fridge, the tins full of homemade biscuits on the bench, coffee stains at the bottom of Rowan's cup. "Don't ruin your appetite." Mr O warns, breaking the silence. Kate pulls her hand away from the tin she'd touched, wrapping it around herself once more.

"I won't." She promises, the words punctuated with a yawn as she leans back against the benchtop. The afternoon sun is filtering in through the windows, the world outside shades of pinks and gold. "I was just looking."

Mr O pauses his movements, glancing at the tin too. "Any luck, Elle'll be back and baking in a couple of days." He murmurs, more to himself than to her. And once again she's struck by the depth of their love for each other. For a moment, he simply stares at the tin, as though his gaze might manifest her, healthy and present, in front of them both. But then he drags his gaze away, turning to retrieve a knife from the block on the counter. "Why don't you go and sit down? You can watch some telly if you want. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

Kate smiles at him, shaking her head. "If I sit down, I might never get up again." She barely stifles a second yawn and, more for something to do rather than any real thirst, she moves to one of the cupboards. Grabbing herself a glass, she fills it at the tap and cups it between her hands. They've spent the last few days at the hospital, only coming home when visiting hours end. And although she's so delighted to see Elle healthy and be able to just talk to both the Olinskys, tiredness is seeping into her bones.

Mr O looks up from his chopping board, frowning at her. "There's filtered water in the fridge." He tells her, nodding to the appliance. Kate glances towards it obediently, even though they both know she won't retrieve it, and takes a moment to examine it. For as long as Kate can remember, it's been covered with photographs and postcards. As Kate looks at it, her gaze fixes on one of her school photos - a teenaged Kate from another life. Except that it wasn't, really. Ten years. God, so much had changed.

It's odd. Like looking at a photograph of a long-lost sister rather than herself. She feels so far away from that girl and who she'd thought she'd be, not anything like the thirteen-year-old who'd been determined to prove herself, to do well and get away. "I like tap water better." She murmurs, her throat suddenly dry, and she takes an unnecessarily large gulp of water to cover the awkward moment. Several droplets drip down her chin. It's not as if the statement is a lie, really. She's always preferred the crisp taste of water straight from the pipes, regardless of what temperature the filtered water was served at. The Olinskys had always shook their head whenever they spotted her as a child, cupping water in her hands from the tap. Something about the cool freshness was more satisfying. Another bad habit, she supposes. "Besides, at least I have a glass this time." She raises the glass like a peace offering. She draws comfort from the way he smiles at her comment. She's found herself doing that lately, analysing his reactions to his words, desperately trying to gauge how he's feeling, and how she can make it up to him.

For the most part, things have been better. She'd left the motel room in favour of the guest bedroom at the Olinskys. There have still been awkward pauses in conversations as they skate around the identity of Shrimp's father, and Kate's desertion, and she knows those particular wounds will take more than a few days to heal. But for now, there's humour too, and smiles. And that old easy flow of jokes between them both that make her feel as though things will eventually be okay. "You're a bloody smartarse." He mutters, the corners of his mouth still twitching, but otherwise says nothing more on the subject as he turns back to the recipe book open in front of him and his chopping board. He moves quickly, dicing vegetables like a TV chef, and Kate is reminded that, despite Mrs O usually being the one found in the kitchen, it was Rowan who'd taken cooking classes and bought recipe books galore. Elle would generally cook the daily meals, and cook them well, but when Rowan was able to, he'd experiment and make the most elaborate and exotic dishes, just because. "You know, you should be paying attention to this." He nods at the recipe book in front of him. "What are you going to feed this kid?"

Kate rolls her eyes, because her utter lack of culinary skills had been brought up many times before. "Well, I think I get a free pass for at least the first six months." Kate reasons with him. He shakes his head in amusement, chopping onion at a speed that, if Kate had have attempted, she would surely have lost fingers. Waving her own hands in exasperation, Kate adds, "Oh, come on, O! Everyone is at me about my diet like I'm living off takeaway and cat food. I _do_ eat healthy."

"Salads and sandwiches aren't a balanced diet, you know." He chastises.

"Of course it is. Meat, carbs, iron, healthy stuff, sauce. The five food groups!" She ticks off each on her fingers. "Besides, I don't think I'll be sitting at home with a newborn and cooking..." She fumbles around for the name of a random dish, "_Artichoke stuffed beef tenderloin." _

"That doesn't mean you can't put a bit more effort into your cooking." He raises an eyebrow in her direction, still effortlessly chopping, and adds, "And I'm making you stuffed capsicums, I'll have you know. Very easy to cook once you know how. I'm sure you could manage it in Canberra too."

Kate adopts a mocking wince. "I don't think I've got fire insurance."

"Funny. Get over here. Core the capsicums while I chop these?" He catches her alarmed look and adds, "Take the seeds and middle-"

"I know what 'core' means!" She cuts him off, staring in alarm at the knife and capsicums. They scared her a whole lot more than pirates and FFVs. "I'm just scared you'll stuff me into an apron. Can't we just accept I'm no cook and move on? I really like my fingers!"

He shakes his head at her in exasperation. "Kate, what are you going to do when this baby grows?"

"Play with it! With all my fingers!"

He slides another chopping board her way. "You do know they eventually require solid foods?"

"Well, I'm familiar with the concept, I suppose." Kate quips. "But then I was thinking I'd just sell it online and start again."

He drops the capsicums into her hands with a wry smile. "Has anyone ever told you you're stubborn?"

She grins. "Once or twice."

He narrows his eyes in her direction. "I could make it an order, Lieutenant?"

Kate winces. "Low blow, Commander." She mutters, reaching for a knife. "Low blow."

* * *

They watch old taped episodes of _M*A*S*H _while they eat their food, the mindless repetition of the familiar show interspersed with Mr O's disapproving stares at the amount of cheese she'd dumped on her food. He'd always been like that, taking offense at the slightest addition of salt or sauces. Kate was too hungry to care (and really, the cheese was awesome). Plus, realistically, this increased need for salt really was Shrimp's fault. (Though she squashes down the slight twinge of shame she feels at the amount of times she's justified certain food choices of late by blaming her pregnancy)

It isn't until they've made their way through three episodes that they resign themselves to the washing up. The lounges are so comfortable that it's a huge effort to even pull herself to her feet, but she takes control of the washing up while Mr O wipes up. While Mr O was an amazing cook, he was also an extremely messy one, and Kate has to steadily wash her way through plates, cutlery, measuring cups, bowls and saucepans. "Anything in the kitchen you didn't use?" She teases.

"I never claimed to be tidy." He looks around at the pile of washing. "Geez, Elle would have a fit if she saw this." He pauses for a second, and then speaks with far more hesitance than Kate has ever heard in his voice. "Kate, Elle and I have been thinking..." Immediately, she tenses up, because nothing good ever seems to come from words like that. Suddenly finding herself paying more attention to a sink full of bubbles and plates than she normally would, she feels her heart begin to beat faster.

"Is this really a conversation we need to have now?" She interrupts, not looking up.

"You're going home on Saturday." He points out. Kate flicks her head in acknowledgement fo the deadline. "Besides, you don't even know what I'm about to say."

"I assume something about how I should move to Sydney?" Her voice is quite calm as she voices the question, but under the water her fingers flex, trying to dispel some of her angst. It wasn't exactly a huge leap to make. After all, Kate had used their computer to check her emails and had seen the internet history of child care in Sydney and careers at the base, not to mention the many whispered conversations between the Olinskys at the hospital that would cut off when she returned to Elle's room.

"Okay, so you know what I'm about to say." He concedes, setting the tea towel on the bench top. "Look, we know that you're capable. But even if you were here for... for six months or so? Just to get into a routine with the baby. We could clear out the back room and... and you'd still have your own space-" She makes a noise to interrupt, but he plows on. "We'd be here to help if you needed it. Elle and I could help you out with babysitting if you decided to go back to work and... and you wouldn't have such a huge financial burden on you." Kate's fingers scrub at a particularly stubborn piece of food. "You'd be able to focus more on the baby and then reevaluate your future in your own time."

She'd known that this would be proposed. She'd just hoped it would be later. "I know you want to help, but-"

"It's not just about help. There are good schools and... and nice parks. Libraries-"

"They have them in Canberra too." Kate murmurs.

"We want you both to be safe."

"And we will be." Kate sighs and pulls her hands from the water. Droplets trail down her fingers. She ignores them, turning to face Mr O. "I really, _really _appreciate the thought. But... but I need to do this. Sydney... it's not the place for us."

"And Canberra is?" He asks softly.

She tips her head. "For now, at least." She knows, realistically, that a one bedroom house is not a long-term solution. But it's enough for now. "I'm happy there, Rowan."

He bows his head in acceptance of her words, even though it seems as though it's costing him a huge effort. And she's reminded of her first few weeks in training, how he'd insisted on her contacting them at every chance she had, just to let them know she was okay. They'd always wanted to protect her. "Alright. I suppose I knew the answer already. But... I think you need to consider the cost of doing this alone."

"I have friends there. A support system." She assures him. "It's small, but it's there."

"That's not what I meant." He looks at her seriously, the washing up long since forgotten. "Kate, I think... I think you should sue him for some sort of child support-"

"No." Kate interjects firmly.

"Kate, this child is not just your responsibility! He should at least be contributing something to-"

"No!" Kate repeats, folding her arms across herself, as though trying to prevent his words from reaching the baby. "I've told you. The guy is not involved."

"Kate, I saw how close the two of you were. And... being in the Navy together and seeing-"

"What?" Kate feels her heart thudding in her chest. There was no way he knew. How could he? Unless... had Libby said something to him? Or Boxer? Surely not. But if he'd heard it from someone else, then they were both screwed. And she hates how her voice shakes, knows that if he says _his _name, her voice will confirm everything. "What do you mean, how close we were? You don't even know who..." She trails off.

She's waiting for him to say his name, to confirm that he knew all about her stupidity, her recklessness, her utter disregard for the rules. But instead, he heaves a heavy sigh. "If that Boxer is not willing to do the decent thing and-"

She actually sags in relief. He stops, looking confused at her reaction. She shakes her head. "Boxer is not the father." She almost laughs as she says it, glad that, at least for now, the secret is still a secret.

Mr O seems unwavering in his resolve. "You don't need to protect him-"

"I'm not!" Kate enunciates the two words. "Boxer and I have only ever been friends. He's... he's like a brother to me! And as for child support, I'm fine. We'll get by."

"Raising a baby is expensive-"

"I know that!" Kate rakes a hand through her hair. "Look, I know it's not going to be easy, and that you're only trying to help. I have a budget, and a bit of savings and... and with maternity leave and work I can... I can get by." Even as she says the words, she finds herself questioning them. Would it be enough? She hates how she's second guessing herself, hates that she's suddenly afraid again. "And I promise you, I'm not protecting Boxer. He and I have only ever been friends."

He's silent for only a few moments, then he adds, "What about Nick? Or that Toby guy? Is it him?"

"For God's sake, Nick was just a friend, and I haven't screwed Toby in about two bloody years!" She snaps, and Rowan flinches. "You want to add more names into the mix, or are you done?" She slams a coffee mug into the water with more force than she'd intended. Water splashes across the top of the sink, trailing down the cupboard. A moment later, she feels bad for snapping at him. Taking the tea towel, she presses it against the edge of the bench, trying to stem the dripping water and wishing she can stop the damage from the words as easily. "Look, I don't want to argue. Nor do I want to go through the list of everyone you think I might have slept with." He has the good grace to look as ashamed at her. "Please. Just... just drop it."

For a moment, Kate is sure that he is going to say something else, some other angry retort. But he seems to reconsider, bowing his head. "I'm sorry." He murmurs, and when he looks up at her, she's surprised to see tears pricking his eyes. "That was unfair." He seems to be struggling to find the words. "It's just... hard. Five minutes ago you were... were running in school sports carnivals and... and excited about getting your pen license. And now... now you're a woman. About to be a mother..." He trails off awkwardly.

She's not entirely sure what to say after this. Maybe because they've broached that unspoken boundary that they always had. It was always Elle who Kate spoke to about relationships. Never Rowan. Truth be told, Kate was surprised that Mr O had even knew Toby's name, considering he'd certainly never met him. Not that Toby had ever been a serious relationship, anyway. Just someone she'd met at a bar and would only see whenever they happened to be in the same town. Which, considering he was a sales rep that traveled Australia, was never very often. The only reason Elle even knew about him was because they'd happened to bump into him one day shopping. But Mr O had never involved himself in Kate's romantic life. In fact, Kate knows that, if she hadn't currently been pregnant, or just confirmed that she'd slept with Toby, he would have carried on convincing himself that she was still a virgin.

"I'm sorry too." She murmurs, even though she's not too sure exactly what she's apologising for. Growing up, perhaps. Or running away, or snapping at him just then. Mostly, she's just sorry that he's here now and she's reduced strong Commander Rowan Olinsky to tears. Mike's name is on her lips, and she so desperately wants to be able to trust him, to give him that one piece of information he feels he so desperately needs. But she knows she can't. "You're still my Dad." She murmurs, because it's the only thing she can say. "No matter what."

* * *

"I think Rose is a beautiful name." Elle announces to them both, mutely handing the small cup of fruit to Mr O. He peels back the label obediently, before handing it back to her. "Don't you think?"

"I suppose." Kate agrees hesitantly, shifting her chair slightly so that she's out of the warm sunshine now flooding in through the window of Elle's hospital room. Lately she's been finding her body temperature almost as temperamental as her, so that she's boiling hot one minute, and freezing cold the next. She hadn't exactly brought along a wide selection of clothing either when she'd packed, but she'd made a mercy dash to kmart and was now, at least, in clean clothes, even if their maternity clothing wasn't quite her usual style. Unconsciously, she fiddles with the hem of her shirt.

"What's wrong with Rose?" Elle presses, taking her movement for evasiveness or disagreement.

"Nothing!" Kate assures her. It's the truth, really. There's nothing wrong with the name Rose. In fact, Kate finds she rather likes it. She doesn't _love _it, exactly, in the way she feels she should love any name of her unborn child. "I just... I kind of hope I'm having a boy." Once she admits the words, she wishes she could stuff them back, because she has no real reason to wish this, aside from her own disastrous relationship with Donna.

She knows it's an odd thing to say, and braces herself for the confusion or digging at any reason why this would be the case. Elle seems to accept the response however, shifting slightly in the bed before asking, "Well, then. Have you thought of any names for him?"

"You don't like Shrimp?" She asks, blinking innocently at her. Day by day, Elle has been looking more and more like her old self, and had been told that if her condition remained the same, she could be discharged the next day. "Not really, no." It's a lie, because she's found herself thinking of one name in particular, more and more. _Flynn. _More and more, she's found herself imagining a little boy with Mike's floppy brown hair, running around just as manically as Tony. And she's always imagined him as Flynn. But she knows she can't say the name aloud. A moment later, however, she finds herself contradicting this very thought. After all, why shouldn't she be allowed to name a son Flynn? It was a name. Just a name. There was no reason that Mr O would automatically connect it to Mike.

"Kate?" Mrs O presses. Kate snaps herself back to reality.

"I'm just... just trying to wrap my head around being a Mum, you know? It's..." She trails off awkwardly, forcing herself once more to get it together, to be normal. "Ah, there's a few names I like. But I'm not sure. Not until I see them, anyway. Naming them before... it sort of feels like jinxing it. Until I'm holding them in my arms..." She falls silent again, slightly ashamed, even though she's said nothing wrong.

There's an awkward silence, and Kate realises that, out of all people, Elle Olinsky might just be the one to understand this. Kate doesn't know exactly how many miscarriages she'd had, and she knows she'll never ask. There's a small silence, in which the weight of everything unsaid between them seems to swell. And then Elle nods curtly. "We always liked Felix. For a boy." The name Flynn is once again on the tip of her tongue, but Elle changes the subject. "So, you're still intent on leaving tomorrow night?"

"Yes, she is." Mr O interjects, before Kate has a chance to answer. She turns and smiles at him gratefully. Though he obviously wasn't pleased with her continued insistence that she was returning to Canberra, he had refrained from voicing any further protests after their argument the previous night. It was almost as though they'd both reached a truce, with neither of them agreeing with the others' point of view, but choosing to move past it in favour of keeping the peace.

"Yes." Kate affirms, smiling gratefully at Mr O. "I've got to get back to work on Friday. And I have plans on Saturday."

Mr O's eyebrows shoot up as he catches her eye. "You... you have plans, do you?"

"Yeah." Kate grins as he splutters anxiously. "With a lovely young man, actually."

He and his wife exchange glances. "And... and these plans are?" He stammers, looking unsure if he wants to know the answer.

* * *

Kate has to smother the laughter that bubbles inside her as Tony answers the door. Flicking her tongue into her cheek, she fakes a look of curiosity as she peers at him. "Uh, where is it were going again?" She queries, tipping her head to the side as though in deep thought.

"You're so funny." Tony rolls his eyes, although a smile splits his own face. Kate takes a step back as he pushes open the flyscreen door and steps onto the front porch to stand next to her. "I like dinosaurs, okay?"

Kate keeps her look of confusion upon her face. "Oh, do you? Cos... I thought we were headed to the mint? Geez. Egg on my face, hey?" Tony sticks his tongue out at her and tugs down the hem of his dinosaur print shirt, and Kate hastens to reassure him, knowing that the joke has gone far enough. "Nah, you look awesome, Tony."

"Is it too many dinosaurs?" He asks, looking uncharacteristically concerned. Along with his dinosaur print t-shirt, he has dinosaur shorts, dinosaur shoes _and _even dinosaur shoelaces. To complete the look, he is also holding a backpack patterned with, of course, dinosaurs. "I just wanted to be in the spirit of the day and everything."

"Definitely not, Tony. I wish they made dinosaur stuff in preggo sizes." Tony seeks out her gaze, but seems to detect no further malice in her eyes and smiles as Heidi appears behind him, a gurgling Ellie seated on her hip.

"Kate, if you're too tired to take him-" She begins, but Kate holds her hands up to stem Heidi's spiel.

"Oh, definitely not! I am a huge dinosaur nerd and this has been the only thing getting me through this ridiculous week. Besides," She turns her gaze to Tony. "It's our birthday present to each other, right?" She'd discovered that she and Tony's birthdays were only a fortnight apart and, after she'd found herself watching _Jurassic Park _with Tony, they'd both made plans to visit the National Dinosaur Museum together.

Heidi looks slightly disbelieving, but agrees all the same. "Okay. Well, as long as Tony didn't pressure you..." She trails off as Tony pushes open the door and races towards Kate's car without a second glance. "Enjoy!"

* * *

"Okay, all I'm asking is how do scientists know what dinosaurs sounded like?" Tony presses, hands gesticulating wildly as Kate glances in the rear view mirror. "I mean, everyone reckons dinosaurs roar, right? But what if they purred or... or squeaked or made some other weird sound that humans have never even thought of before?" Tony punctuates the thought as he slaps a hand upon his legs. Kate laughs as she flicks the indicator on to turn onto their street.

The dinosaur museum had brought out her inner geek, and Kate had unashamedly purchased a dinosaur onesie from the gift shop for Shrimp, hoping that they would have at least inherited that one interest of hers. "I think that is a question worthy of a future paleontologist."

He nods eagerly, flicking through the book he'd bought, full of skeletel images as well as artists' renderings of each species. "Hey, maybe Shrimp should have a dinosaur name." Tony turns the page. "What about Rex? Or Raptor?"

"Steg." Kate suggests, and Tony roars with laughter. "What?!" Kate presses.

"Steg McGreg." He chuckles, and Kate joins in the laughter.

"Oh, that's more tragic than just calling him Shrimp." Kate concedes, as they pull into her driveway. She's exhausted, ready to crash on her lounge with a good movie and spend Sunday resting.

"You could be having a girl." He reminds her. "Although... you reckon Steg can be for a girl as well? Hey, you have people here."

"What?" Kate frowns, not following the change in conversation. In response, Tony raises a hand and points towards Kate's front door.

"There." He nods in the direction for emphasis. "Look. There's someone there."

Kate follows his gaze, and her jaw drops as she recognises who it is.


	19. Chapter 19

"Libby?" Kate doesn't even bother to shut the car door as she bails out. Hell, she's not even one hundred percent she's turned the engine off, but she doesn't stop to double check. Her body moving faster than her brain can comprehend, she stumbles slightly on the uneven driveway, but manages to catch her balance. "Lib!" Kate practically launches herself at Libby, wrapping her arms around her so tight that both of them nearly fall flat on the ground. There's a muffled _oof _from Libby, but she squeezes Kate back just as hard. "What the hell are you doing here?!" Kate's voice is muffled, her face pressed into Libby's shoulder. And, hell, Libby's wild hair is all over her face, her bag digging painfully into her hip, but none of that matters, because she's _here,_ after all the emails and phone calls. Here.

"Why? Want me to go?" Libby teases, and it's simultaneously as though no time and centuries have passed since they last met.

"Not a chance!" Kate shoots back, squeezing Libby just that bit tighter. It's not as if she really thinks Lib will disappear, but it feels good to actually have her. And, hell, she knows that now is the time she'd normally make some quip about Libby treating her like a hotel, or else that she could have at least bothered to wash her hair before letting it fly all over Kate's face. But her warped sense of humour takes a back seat in among the sheer feeling of having her best friend with her at last. "I just can't believe this!"

"Got invited to a short course at ADFA. Figured I'd drop in and surprise my bestie." Libby peels Kate away and holds her at arm's length, peering at her critically. For a moment they both look at each other. Then Libby's eyes twinkle. "Geez, you got fat. When was the last time you saw your ankles?!"

"Gee, thanks." Kate grumbles in mock offense, then tips her head to the side in thought. "About two months ago, easy. It's an effort even getting shoes on." She wriggles her toes. Any time she wasn't at work was generally spent in thongs now, no matter the weather. It was just easier that way; the effort to put shoes on has more than once brought her to tears.

Libby's smile widens. "You look amazing, Kate." She murmurs, before crouching in front of Kate and placing a hand on either side of Kate's middle. "Hey, Shrimp. It's your Auntie Lib. Just so you know, I'm the one that's going to spoil you rotten and let you get away with everything that boring Mummy doesn't."

"Please don't turn my unborn child against me." Kate pokes Libby in the shoulder and she overbalances, falling backwards with another _oof_. She has to catch her weight with a hand behind her, and throws an outraged look behind Kate. "Hey! You must be Tony. _Please _tell me you witnessed that cruel and unnecessary exhibition of brutality!" Kate glances behind her and sees Tony, looking torn between amusement and confusion as he watches Libby pull herself back to her feet. "I've heard lots about you, Kiddo. Kate reckons you've been an absolute lifesaver."

"Hi." Tony murmurs, uncharacteristically shy. Although, to be fair, Libby _was _full on.

Kate smiles reassuringly and moves to introduce them properly. "Tony, this is Libby. Libby, this is-"

"The fabulous handyman!" Libby interrupts, taking Tony's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "You, my friend, most definitely deserves a medal because, honestly, she's probably been driving you mad. How many times have you had to try and talk her out of... of mowing the lawn or trying to clean her gutters while she's eleventy months pregnant?"

Tony laughs, all shyness forgotten. "Only sometimes." He admits, with a cheeky look in Kate's direction. "She usually listens to me though. Otherwise I call Mum in."

"Oi!" Kate interjects in mock outrage. "Don't go ganging up on me already." She turns back and scoops her bag up from the passenger seat of the car, before moving to the front door. "I _suppose _I'll let you in, Lib. Come on." She brushes a hand against her middle. "We need food."

"And Libby needs a drink!" Libby adds, rubbing her hands together like she's planning world domination. "I'm _dying_ of thirst." She gestures to the bag she's dropped at the front door. Kate spies a six pack of beer in front of it. Catching Kate's eye, she shrugs. "Don't look at me like that! It's five o'clock somewhere and I brought you cordial too." As she makes her way through the door, Libby sweeps Tony up with an arm around his shoulder. "What about you, Little Dude? Too early for a beer?"

"About eight years, Lib." Kate shoves her friend lightly in the shoulder.

Libby rubs the spot as though Kate had stabbed her. "Oi! You're getting a little aggressive there, Lieutenant Mc-_Preggor_." She eyes Kate's middle. "Sure you're not having twins?"

"Oh, get inside!" Kate rolls her eyes.

"Lead the way." She grins wickedly at Tony. "Boy, have I got some stories to tell you."

* * *

Kate's not surprised to find that Libby and Tony get along really well. After all, Libby's always had a way with kids, and they both share that teasing sense of humour - usually at Kate's expense. By the time Libby starts talking about her time doing surf comps in her teens, Tony is hanging off her every word, and Kate busies herself ironing a uniform for the next day as she listens rather than joins in. She likes to domesticity of it all. The gentle conversation, and it's almost like a glimpse into the future, imagining Libby with Shrimp in the years to come.

Tony stays for an hour or so, before thanking Kate yet again for taking him out, and skipping back home. "He's sweet." Libby concludes, pulling herself to her feet and heading to the fridge, emerging a moment later with one of the beers she'd put in there earlier. "Really talkative when he gets going, hey?"

"That's the understatement of the century." Kate jolts slightly as Libby flops onto the lounge beside her, resting her head on Kate's shoulder for a moment before straightening and uncapping her beer. "He's... he's great. His whole family are." Kate pauses, trying to find words important enough, because it's a big thing, what they've done for him. "I don't think I would have felt as... as good about staying here if I didn't have him."

"I'm glad you found him then." Libby looks around the room. Slowly, Kate has added things, made it less of a rental and more _hers. _It's far from perfect, far from any dream house, but it's home. Following her train of thought, Libby continues. "You seem to have really settled here, Kate. I'm glad. Not to mention, both of you seem to have that nerd thing going. You might be the only twenty-three year old to hit up a dinosaur museum on the weekend."

"Hey!" Kate opens her mouth to snap a retort, but her brain fails her, and all she can come up with is, "I'm almost twenty-four!" Libby chuckles.

"I actually thought you'd given me a dummy address when I first got here. Curtains drawn, no one home. Waiting alone."

"How long were you waiting for?" Kate has to fight the twinge of guilt. After all, she hadn't even known Lib was coming.

Libby waves away Kate's question with another gulp of beer. "Eh, ten minutes?" She guesses, before clapping a hand to her chest. "Ten lonely, terrifying, panicked, _cold _minutes-"

"You're so dramatic." Kate rolls her eyes, but can't help but laugh all the same. Sinking back into the chair, Kate adds, "I've missed you, Lib. It's been too long!"

"I know." Libby moans. "I've missed you, hon. Grueling wake ups aren't the same without you."

Kate laughs. "I must say, that's the good thing about a shore posting. Regular shifts. But how are the subs treating you?"

Libby gives an offhand shrug. "Yeah, okay. Bit... you know... isolating at times, not being able to head on deck for fresh air when you need it, but it's good. I love it. One of the techos, Swan, she's a good laugh. Joined the Navy out of spite because her stepfather reckoned it was a man's job. She's a born sailor, though. And some of the guys are fun too, even though they're typical guys, getting themselves pissed every night we're in port and showing up bleary eyed the next day. The lack of privacy is a bit much, though. I miss having my own space. Seeing my friends and family." She shakes her head slightly as though to regain focus. "Eh, but enough about me. How's O going? Back home?"

"Yeah, they're at home. Elle's gonna need to tone down on the fry ups but... yeah, she's going to be fine. Thank God." Kate falls silent once more, the guilt weighing up once more.

Libby seems to know what she's thinking. "It wasn't your fault, you know." She says, before Kate can voice these thoughts. "And if I'm honest, I'm glad. Elle's okay and... and you were able to sort things out with them. I mean," Libby hastens to correct herself. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not a monster. But... it gave you the kick to sort things out. I'm glad things are cool between you, you know?" Libby scratches at a spot on her arm. "Things _are_ cool, aren't they?"

Kate shrugs awkwardly. "As well as they're ever going to be, I guess. I mean, they still want me to move up there with them or get married or something first. But... yeah, they're okay." Her fingers tug at a loose thread of her jeans. "Mr O thinks I should sue Mike for child support."

"What?!" Libby sits up, so quickly she very nearly falls off the lounge. "You mean-"

"Well, not _Mike." _Kate corrects hastily, correcting herself. "He doesn't know it's _him_. But... the father. He reckons he needs to pay something."

She's painfully aware of Libby's gaze upon her, as though trying to read Kate's mind. When she does speak, Libby's tone is quite impassive, free of any judgement. "And what do you think?"

"I think... I don't know." She'd been so sure about her decision to keep Mike out of it, but all the same, she finds herself seeking out Libby's opinion. More than that. She wants someone to tell her what to do, wants someone to take this responsibility away from her and make the decision for her, because it's too much. "Isn't that selfish? I made the choice. And anyway, I don't _need _money."

"But it's got you thinking about him, hasn't it?" Libby presses. "About what it would mean if you told him?" Kate doesn't say much. Libby is right, of course. More and more she's found herself daydreaming about seeing Mike, of handing him a perfect little baby. Of being a perfect little family. But she knows, even if she was to tell him, it wouldn't be like that. "You're not going to tell the O's?"

Her question snaps Kate back to reality. "God no!" She gasps, wide eyed. "That would be a fun conversation. '_Hey, O. You know the guy you tell me has a girl in every port? Guess which girl was Sydney? This gal!'_" She twists both her hands around to point at her belly, before turning back to Lib. "No. He can't find out. He'd _kill_ him. They were friends. Or... friendly, at least." She drags a hand through her hair. "Maybe... maybe in the future? Oh, I don't know. It's all so confusing. I have all these feelings that don't make sense running through me." She turns to Libby with an expression of exasperation. "You know I cried the other day because I lost my favourite pen. And then I remember thinking, it's not even that _good _a pen. It's a cheap 10-for-3-bucks pen, but I liked the way I wrote with it and I had it at Watson's and it's all so stupid! _Don't laugh!_" Libby mimes zipping her lips shut. "It's all so much. There's so many decisions to make every day! We went over birth plans at my prenatal class." The corners of Libby's mouth twitch. "What?!" Kate demands.

"Nothing." Libby's says with a soft laugh. "I'm just trying to picture you in a prenatal class." She mimes scribbling notes on a clipboard, before raising her hand like a school child. Kate wonders whether she can damage her eyes from rolling them too much.

"I mean, honestly, I'm not the top student you're imagining. I've missed a few lessons."

Libby apparently isn't done mocking her. She adopts an outraged expression. "Kate McGregor missing lessons?! _Kate McGregor **not **being the **best student**_?!"

"Shut up." Kate rolls her eyes at Libby's antics, even through her laughter. She flails her hands in the air, trying to find the words to accurately describe the environment. "It's scary! There are... videos and... and everyone is with someone. I just feel so... so out of place. Like I don't belong. But there's so many things to think about! Like... like whether I want to make a playlist for when I'm in labour, or... or be fully nude or... fucking give birth in some birthing pool. Like how is that hygienic? Surely they can't get all that gunk out of a pool. And do I want a support person or someone with me? Do I want an epidural? And... and when it's born, do I get it baptised or christened or... or not? I mean, I don't really believe it but I don't want to damn some poor kid's soul. And if something happens to me, where does the kid go? You're on a sub, Elle's just out of hospital, Mike doesn't even know and I've only known Heidi and Dale five minutes. And what about schooling? Should I be inquiring about childcare now because waitlists are horrendous but-"

"Geez, just chill!"

"How?!" Kate gestures to the calendar to emphasise her point. "Every day there are more decisions and time is running out."

In contrast to her earlier humour, Libby is starting to look a little alarmed. Brow furrowed in concentration, Libby considers her words. "Well, uh... just... just try to think of it logically?" Kate raises an eyebrow and Libby hastens to continue. "Look, you're not religious. And I'm sure anyone up there wouldn't damn an innocent kid. So let them decide that or not when they're older." Kate doesn't know much what to say about that. Mostly because it's most logical answer and she hadn't thought of it. "Kate, just... just take the pressure off yourself. You're going to be a great Mum."

Kate pushes herself up from the lounge and begins pacing, because she can't sit still anymore. Any sense of amusement Kate had felt in the conversation has long since been replaced with real worry, and a need for reassurance. "But it's so much pressure. I can't afford to make the wrong decision."

Libby stands too, moving closer to Kate and placing a hand on each of her shoulders, forcing her to remain still. "Okay. Now, I know it goes against everything you stand for, but parents... they don't always get things right. I was in childcare, remember? I've seen parents make every mistake under the sun. But you know what a great parent does every day? They try to do better. They accept that sometimes they might fall short." Kate sucks in a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself once more. "Some days you're gonna bribe your kid with lollies or... or snap or cry or say the wrong thing. Some days you'll give in and let the kid watch hours of TV because you're tired or... or let them eat ice cream for dinner just so they'll shut up. But you're also going to love them, and laugh with them and be the most important person in their world. You're going to do what you've always done. You're going to try to be better."

Kate nods soberly. "I just... some days I feel like I'm not going to be enough. That if I had Mike here too..." She trails off, the _what if_s getting her every time. Almost unconsciously, she moves towards her dog tags, fidgeting with them like she always does when she's worried.

For a moment, she and Libby stand in silence. Then Libby begins, tentatively, "You never told me about him... I mean... properly. About how you met. What he was like."

What he was like. Sometimes she finds it hard to remember. So often, he's either an idealised fantasy man, a compilation of all of the traits she'd admired in him, faults ignored. And other times, he's the man that had left. "I don't... I don't know how to talk about him." She murmurs. "It's like I've made him up. The Mike on that course... Lieutenant Commander Flynn... that wasn't him. That wasn't..." _It wasn't the man I loved._ She finishes the thought in her head. Sighing deeply, she moves back to the lounge and flopping backwards, so that she's staring at the plain white roof. She's only vaguely aware of Libby lifting her feet for a moment, so that she can sit on the other side of the lounge, before letting them rest over her legs. "I had some time to kill, after my posting up North. So I was crashing with the Olinskys. Just... spending time being a tourist, you know? Found myself in this second hand bookshop looking at these old classics and... and he was there. We just started talking. I mean, it sounds lame but... but it was just so easy. He had just bought _Iliad. _He was talking to me about the sorts of things I read and... we both paid for what we needed and then we just... just kept walking. Ended up in the Botanical gardens under a tree just talking about books. It was hours. Hours and hours."

"Nerd." Libby murmurs, although there's no malice in her tone. She gives Kate's leg a gentle squeeze.

Kate lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Yeah." She agrees. "It sounds stupid now. But it felt... different. I just felt like this was a guy who was nice and funny and genuinely interesting, and he thought the same about me and... and he asked for my number and... and I didn't think he'd call back." Kate shrugs. "But he did."

"And it began." Libby muses.

"Yeah." Kate nods. She's not sure why, but she draws comfort from the small smile on Libby's face as she falls into the story, even though they both know how the story ends. "We went to Luna Park, of all places. I'd never been. He knew all the history of the place, all these stories and facts. It was fascinating. And we went on the carousel and the tango train and the rollercoaster... and it wasn't until the Ferris Wheel that I saw him with his eyes squeezed shut looking like he was about to faint that he admitted he was deathly afraid of heights." Libby lets out a snort of laughter. Kate smiles too at the memory. "He'd only gone because I'd told him I'd never been on a Ferris Wheel before. I swear, it took him about five minutes to stop shaking."

"That's sweet." Libby laughs, hands still resting on Kate's leg.

"We stuck to the ground after that, though. But it was... it was a perfect day just... just goofing around being kids." She snorts with laughter. "And I was hooked. I... I went back to his hotel with him..." She swallows awkwardly, glad that she can't see Libby's face, "...and from then we spent every day together... and most nights. We never seemed to run out of things to say, or... or do. It was never awkward or... or difficult, being with him. We went to... to the art gallery and... and took the monorail around the city. Some days we'd just stay at the hotel and take turns reading lines from our stories, and _yes _I realise that is incredibly nerdy." Libby lets out another snigger of laughter. "I don't think I'd ever felt... that safe with anyone, ever. So... so comfortable in who I was and... and where I'd been in life. We were... we were in the moment, together. And it was great. _Well-_" Kate reaches for her dogtags again. "Right up until I walked into that lecture room and saw him at the front." Kate hears Libby exhale sharply, even though she had already known how the story ended, and Kate lets out a wry laugh, still staring at the ceiling. "In amongst all our conversation, somehow neither of us told the other we were in the Navy. Can you believe that?"

Libby's beer has long since been abandoned on the coffee table. The clock has never sounded so loud. And still, Kate can see that expression of horror, of mistrust and betrayal and regret and confusion that had been plastered upon Mike's face, frozen in her mind's eye. "I'm sorry, Kate." Libby's voice is barely a whisper.

"I fell in love." Kate's voice cracks on the words. And she almost feels ashamed to speak the words aloud, even though she knows Libby would never judge her. "Up until I met him, I thought the whole _love _thing was bullshit. I'd thought I could make it on my own. That I never needed anyone. But he... he made me break all of my rules. He made me break the Navy's rules-"

"But you didn't know!" Libby argues. "You didn't break the Navy's rules." Kate doesn't answer this. She can feel Libby's eyes on her, second guessing. And Kate knows that she doesn't really need to contradict her friend, that any moment she will guess, just from the look on her face. "Shit." Libby's curse just about sums it up. "Did you?"

Kate lets out a heavy breath, and she knows Libby is wracking her brain, trying to remember that very first class. "I stayed behind." Kate fills in the blanks for her, feeling as though she's confessing to a crime. And maybe she is, in a way. "I told you to go to lunch, because I had something digging into my back and I needed to repack my bag." Libby makes a noise in her throat like she remembers this. "...and when everyone was gone, Mike and I agreed to coffee. Off base. To talk."

"But there's nothing wrong with going to coffee with the guy!" Libby points out, even though she sounds, in Kate's opinion at least, as though she's clutching at straws.

"Not really." Kate agrees, bowing her head. "But the coffee place ended up being right next to a cheap motel."

"Oh." Libby's grip on her leg slackens. "Right."

Kate feels her voice rise a little higher. She doesn't think she's ever looked at the ceiling this intently before. "I... I think it was then. The... uh... the other times we were... more careful? I mean, I was on the pill but... neither of us were really expecting it and... uh... we-"

"-didn't put a lifejacket on Little Mike?" Libby finishes automatically. Then she winces. "Sorry."

"Right after, it was... it was like something changed. We both left. Agreed to meet the next day. At the beach. Somewhere public. Far away from..."

"Temptation?" Libby suggests tentatively, when Kate fails to find the right words.

"Basically." Kate agrees. "But he never showed. And the next day, it was like I didn't even exist. And it was over. Or..." She gestures vaguely to her middle. "So I thought, anyway."

For the longest time yet, they sit in silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Kate closes her eyes, even though there's no tiredness. Talking about him, sharing it all has made her feel raw. Part of her, that abandoned little Kate, wants to claw back the words, erase them from Libby's memory. But she can't. "Don't." Libby murmurs, and Kate's eyes snap open. She lifts her head, looking at her friend. Tears are streaming down Lib's face too. "Don't hide away from me. Don't... don't ever think I'm judging you, Kate. Please don't... don't ever think for a moment you can't tell me this stuff." Kate squeezes her eyes tighter, feeling tears stream down her own face too.

"I hate how stupid I was." She whispers. "And now I've brought a poor baby into the mix and-"

"Oh, Kate." Libby stands up, moves to her. And Kate feels herself break. "You are not stupid, okay?" Libby presses a kiss to the top of Kate's head, holding her close. "He's the stupid one. And this baby is going to be loved. So loved."

* * *

"Urgh, your lounge is not made to be slept on." Libby's voice wakes Kate from her sleep. Opening her eyes, she has just enough time to register that she is awake before Libby clambers unceremoniously onto the bed. Kate mumbles something even _she _doesn't quite understand, still fighting her way through the hazy fog of sleep, and clings more tightly to her pillow. A moment later, however, she feels Libby poke her in the shoulderblade.

"Are you right there?" Kate groans, edging backwards to make more room.

"Anyone ever tell you you're huge?" Libby asks, as she squeezes herself into the little room available. The movement tightens the sheets around Kate, so that she's practically coccooned underneath all her blankets.

"You. Frequently." Kate closes her eyes and swats blindly in Libby's direction, smiling into the pillow as she gains a cry of _ouch_ in return. "And I offered you the bed."

Libby scoffs. "Oh, as if I was going to kick you out of your own bed!"

"And yet here we are."

"I missed you?" Kate opens her eyes again to see Libby beaming at her. "You _are_ grumpy when you wake."

"I've had Shrimp kicking me all night and now you." Kate points out, realising that she's not about to get back to sleep anytime soon. "And you also had a fancy pants double paid for by the Navy going to waste."

Libby smiles sweetly. "But I'd miss out on seeing your smiling face."

Kate groans, turning her face into the pillow. "What time is it?" She grumbles blearily.

"0530." Libby lets out another cry of pain as Kate hits her again. "Hey, what can I say? Nostalgia got the better of me."

Kate can't help but laugh. "You're a dick." She rolls over as best she can, so that she's on her back. "It's Sunday, Lib! One of my two sleep days!"

"But isn't this nice?"

"Shrimp is sitting on my bladder." Kate points out.

"Admit it. You've missed me." Libby pesters, poking Kate again, before adopting a decisive tone. "_So_. We only have today together and I vote we go shopping. I have a god-child to spoil and a city to explore before, you know, spending the next few days in a conference room."

Kate winces. Shopping-Libby was the ultimate bad influence. "You do see this room, right? I am space limited. Just remember that."

Libby shifts for a moment and glances around the room, before shrugging and flopping back onto the pillows. "Eh, I was never very good with maths."

* * *

The day outside is drizzling and miserable, and Kate is not surprised to find the shopping centre crowded and noisy. After the craziness of the last few days, Kate would have been more than happy to stay at home, but as they make their way through each store, Kate can't deny she's enjoying herself. They've already made their way through three stores, and despite her hesitancy, Kate comes to appreciate the benefits of Libby's previous experience with children as she guides Kate through what she will need and those things that she probably won't. She talks Kate out of purchasing a baby bath ("Honestly, the kitchen sink will work just as well, and they'll only fit in there for a few months anyway.") and, as they make their way through an aisle of washcloths, she points out a soft, hooded towel that makes Kate melt.

"See, this stuff?" Libby had remained unmoved by the cuteness of it all, shaking her head as Kate pointed it out. "Yes, it's cute. But there is absolutely no reason a baby can't use an adult towel. There's no need for special baby sized towels or anything like that."

"But..." Kate ran a hand over the soft fabric. "It's got little bear ears on it?" She'd long since resigned herself to the mushiness she often felt when looking at baby products. Libby however, her body unravaged by hormones galore, remained stoic.

She'd been similarly critical when it came to socks. "Trust me, socks were the bane of my existence when I was in child care." Libby groaned, dragging Kate away from the weeny packages of socks as though they were radioactive. "If I had a dollar for every time a parent wanted me to chase up an unlabelled, nondescript lost sock, I'd be able to buy your kid a Navy boat. You'll put a sock on the baby, and they'll pull it right off."

"But their toes will get cold!" Kate frowns, looking over her shoulder, unable to move past just how _tiny _they were. "Plus, they had boats on them!"

"Get them footed PJs then, or wondersuits." Libby suggests. "Same warmth, less risk of losing it all." She catches Kate's eye and rolls her own. "You still want them, don't you? And it was me you advised upon the critical space conservation..." She gives an exaggerated tut as she folds her arms.

"Okay, okay! Socks are a mark of the devil. I hear you!" Kate holds her hands up in surrender, glancing at the trolley in front of them. Everything inside of it is depressingly practical and un-cute, and has Kate feeling as though she's been taken to an all-you-can-eat buffet and been told she can only eat broccoli. Voice laced in sarcasm, she sighs heavily. "I will _bow_ to your wealth of knowledge, Olivia." Kate dodges the poke that Libby gives her for the use of the full name. "Nothing cute or little or fun. Got it."

"You bought the little sailor pyjamas!" Libby waves a hand towards the trolley and the offending outfit. "_And _the tiny dinosaur onesie. And I'm only trying to help!"

"I know!" Kate groans, dragging a hand through her hair. "I have a serious problem. It's just everything I see hits me right in the heart! I want everything!"

"Hey, I'm only human. I agree with you!" Libby assures her with a sympathetic smile, steering the trolley down another aisle and adding a pack of newborn nappies and a box of wipes to it in a routine sort of way. "_Unfortunately_, your paycheck and your limited space disagree." Kate jerks her head in reluctant agreement. Libby stops and crouches lower so that she can look Kate in the eyes, as though she's an impatient toddler rather than an adult. "Shall we get you something to eat?"

Kate considers her for a moment, then shrugs. "I want a milkshake. Oreo flavour." She's unable to fully keep the childishness from her voice, but stubbornness makes her add, "Hey, you're the one that woke me at the arsecrack of dawn. If I can't have caffeine, I want sugar."

Libby laughs, pinching Kate's cheek for a moment and adopting a sugary sweet voice. "Well, let's pay for this stuff, then we'll get you a treat, and you can go home for a nap."

Kate hesitates, debating whether or not to be insulted. After a moment of careful consideration, she tips her head to the side. "Okay, I know you're teasing me, but that sounds amazing. But can we detour through the snacks? I need more Pringles."

"Need?" Libby folds her arms again, and Kate feels distinctly judged. "_Kate..." _

"_Please. _I can not handle anyone else whinging about my diet. I just really want some snacks for home! I have a bowling ball under my shirt, everything hurts, I have to work tomorrow and... and I've earned it, dammit!" She ends her rant by tossing a baby rattle patterned with sailboats and whales onto the top of the detritus in the trolley. A moment later, she registers that tossing baby toys spontaneously for purchase doesn't _quite _validate her point about being an autonomous, cognitive adult. But... well, it's cute. Libby follows the action with an expression that clearly says _really?! _"Hey, music is good for babies!" Kate defends. "I read about it. It's good for... for speech and... and stuff." She recognises the irony of trying to discuss linguistic skills and ending a sentence with 'and stuff'.

There's a moment in which Kate is sure Libby is just going to walk away in exasperation. But then she throws her hands in the air, apparently deciding the argument wasn't worth the effort. "Fine." Libby agrees, not _quite _succeeding in masking her disapproval. "You dork."

* * *

"Uh, I may never move again!" Kate groans as she sinks back into the vinyl of the booth she and Libby are seated in. There's a clink as Libby, who had chosen to drink her milkshake at a more socially acceptable speed, sets her own half-full glass down.

"I don't think I would after that!" Libby nods to Kate's empty glass, her voice a mixture of disgust, shock and amusement. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone down a milkshake that quickly. I... I don't even think you stopped for breath." Kate, who is too full to muster the energy for protest, simply lets out a contented sigh, while Libby continues, apparently on a roll. "I'm... actually concerned your stomach is going to explode. Have you even eaten since Watson's? That is not normal!"

"_You_ get pregnant. _Then _try to ignore bubs when they say they're hungry." Kate mutters, stretching her arms lazily. "I could actually sleep here now." She eyes Libby, deep in thought. "In terms of ways to go, death by milkshake really _isn't _that bad."

Libby screws up her face as she takes another gulp of her own milkshake. "I mean, realistically, no." She admits. "Death by cocktails, though. Even better." Libby snaps her fingers for dramatic effect, before forming the universal 'OK' gesture with her fingers and mouthing _perfect_. "Actually, come to think of that..." Libby adds, twirling her straw thoughtfully, "...I think we almost did that a few times at basic training."

"Don't remind me! My liver has still not recovered." Kate agrees, as several confused memories flood her brain. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to smell tequila without feeling ill. "_Or _my arm." She adds.

"I said I was sorry!" Libby exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. Kate laughs. It's an argument they've had many times before. "And _you _got in the shopping trolley, might I remind you."

"_You _let it go." Kate teases back, poking her tongue out again. "My whole arm was black with bruises." Kate hesitates for a moment, drumming her fingers anxiously on the tabletop. "I really shouldn't be in charge of a newborn, should I?"

Libby, mid-sip, lets out a snort of laughter so loud that it attracts the attention of the table next to them, then promptly chokes on her mouthful of milkshake. Coughing and spluttering, Kate has to lunge across the table to offer a few supportive whacks on Libby's back. "Probably not." She agrees, when she's recovered. "I mean, I promise to keep both hands on the pram?" Libby supplies tentatively.

"Bold of you to assume I'm letting you anywhere near my baby with wheels." Kate deadpans.

"Cute." They lapse into silence once more, before Libby speaks more seriously. "I'm proud of you, Kate."

"What?!" Kate splutters, genuinely concerned now. "Why? Because I smashed out a giant Oreo milkshake in less than sixty seconds?"

"I guess I just... the entire time I've known you it's been all about the Navy. But now you're here and about to be a Mum and... and you're going to be great."

"Stop! You'll make me cry." Kate slaps a hand blindly in Libby's direction. "I wouldn't have been able to do this alone. I've had you and Box and-"

"Been a bit hard to feel involved when I'm a million miles away." She swivels her straw around and around her glass. "It's just weird to think that this visit is the last time it's going to be just you."

"We'll still be best friends."

"Oh, I know. You'd go mad without me!" Libby laughs. "I wish I could be there. Well..." Libby corrects herself. "For the moral support side. Not the 'watch a slimy alien claw its way out of my best friend's vag' part."

"Lib!" Kate winces as Libby makes elaborate scratching motions with her hands. "I..." But they're interrupted by a faint ringing.

"That's yours." Libby informs her, after patting her own pocket.

Kate digs her mobile out from her bag and frowns slightly, seeing _Harman _flashing upon her screen. "It's work?" Kate murmurs.

"So much for your nine-to-five." Libby teases, dragging her milkshake closer again as Kate presses the phone to her ear. "Kate McGregor." She greets_, _sticking a finger up at Libby as she makes a show of sucking on her strawberry for some unknown reason.

"_Lieutenant_?_ It's Stevenson." _Her boss' voice distracts her completely from Libby's antics, and she sits up straighter, even though she knows he can't see her.

_"_Sir?" Kate's caught between embarrassment at the noise around her and confusion as to why he would be calling her. Trying to inject some semblance of responsibility and professionalism into her words, she adds, "How can I help you?"

_"Lieutenant, I'm aware it's your day off but there's been an incident and I'm afraid I need you to come in."_

"Uh, Sir..." Kate hesitates, glancing at Libby, who mouths _what _in her direction. "What kind of incident?"

_"I'll explain when you get here."_ His abrupt tone cuts through her questioning. "_As soon as possible, please." _

"Okay, but Sir-" Kate begins, but stops as she hears the dial tone. Libby tips her head in confusion as Kate lowers the phone to the tabletop. "What's going on?" She asks.

"I..." Kate drops her phone back into her bag, still frowning. "I really don't know."

* * *

_A/N: So I found out after I wrote part of this conversation that Luna Park actually wasn't open during the time frame I'm setting this in. Calling poetic license and just rolling with it. _


	20. Chapter 20

Kate's hands grip the steering wheel, white knuckled, her brain turning over every single reason she can think of as to why Stevenson would ask - not just ask, but_ demand_ \- to see her on a Sunday. Her brain is a jumble of possibilities, of an oversight in her paperwork, perhaps, or something more. Was she about to get transferred? Had she lodged something incorrectly? Had her desk-drawer cordial spilled and killed her computer? Had she accidentally put work files on her home computer? Of course, she knew logically that she hadn't - she was meticulous about that stuff. But the doubts still lingered until another, more terrifying possibility hit her.

Had he found out about Mike?

If he had, if _anyone _knew... well, they could kiss both of their careers goodbye.

She lets out a shaky breath and edges the car into the carpark. In her anxious state, it takes her a little longer than usual to park straight, and her face flushes with embarrassment, even though there's no one to see. She hates this feeling, on edge as though she's done something wrong, as though any moment she's going to be RNIN'd and sent packing, and in this state, it takes her longer than it should to register that there are more cars there then there usually would be on a Sunday. Confusion replace her nerves now. She locks the car and makes her way inside, nibbling on the inside of her mouth.

She knows the instant she enters the office that something has happened. The usually calm faces all around have been turned into tense masks, and there's none of the easy chatter that usually fills the room. And she knows instantly, that this is no mere issue of paperwork or miscommunication. This is serious. She catches Winter's gaze, but he simply nods in her direction before continuing his phone conversation, scribbling notes on a piece of paper as he goes.

She has no time to ask him what is going on. She's not sure she wants to know. This intensity, this feverish activity and tense expressions are all screaming disaster. Tragedy. And her hand reaches out and wraps itself around her middle, drawing comfort and reassurance from the life inside. _Lieutenant, _she reminds herself, chanting the word like a mantra. _You're a Lieutenant._

Stevenson is on the phone too, headset in his ear, pacing backwards and forwards, so she retreats and busies herself unpacking her possessions instead, waiting for him. More for something to do than any real need, she sets out automatically making Stevenson his usual coffee, hands white-knuckled on the spoon as she stirs in his sugar. By the time she's made her way back to the main office, brew in hand, she spies Stevenson in his doorway waiting for her. He beckons in her direction with a finger, and she sighs, making her way to him.

"Lieutenant." He greets, dragging a hand over his chin. Despite not really liking the guy, she's an attentive worker, and she knows him. Can see that something serious has happened. He hasn't shaved, his usually clean face slightly grey with stubble, and there's a small stain on the sleeve of his shirt. These marks of carelessness, no matter how small, aren't normal, and she feels her uncertainty heighten. He takes the coffee from her, nodding distractedly. "Oh. Thanks. And thanks for coming in." On his desk are three empty mugs, scattered across the workspace. His hands are shaking.

"Sir?" Kate murmurs back, not used to seeing him and his usually neat-as-a-pin office like this. She can't help but voice the greeting as a question. "Are you..." She hesitates, takes a deep breath, because she's a Lieutenant, and removes the personal from the question. "Has something happened?"

Stevenson bows his head in affirmation. "There... there's been an... an _incident_ on one of our frigates." He hesitates awkwardly on the word, and Kate knows it's definitely more than just an _incident_. "Early this morning. A... a takedown-gone-wrong. One dead, two seriously wounded. The wounded are being cared for. The deceased..." He trails off again, looking away. "Well, we're making arrangements." He rakes a hand through his hair again. "_ANZAC _won't be able to come home for some time."

"_ANZAC?!_" Kate feels her heart skip a beat, eyes widening. And, hell, there are one hundred-and-seventy-odd crew on board, but terror for the fate of one is flooding through her. "_Sir_, what happened?! I... one of the Lieutenants, he's-"

"Gater- uh..." He swallows awkwardly, and begins again. "Uh, the deceased is... _was _a Lieutenant Commander, actually. And the two injured are a Petty Officer and an Able." She can't help the twinge of relief, even if it's at someone else's expense. But Boxer is okay. Boxer is _fine._ And she hates that the relief shows on her face, because how can she stand here and be _glad _that someone else is dead. He frowns at her for a moment, looking puzzled. And when he speaks again, it's both the most concerned and hesitant she's ever heard him. "Is... is that where..." He nods at her middle, not finishing the question. There's no real need for him to complete it anyway.

"No. He's... he's long gone." She tries to sound flippant, as though this doesn't bother her in the slightest. It was the answer she gave whenever she was asked, the answer she'd settled on, as she'd hugged her middle in Boxer's parents' cabin and resolved herself to the fact that she was going to be a single mother. _Long gone._ It could mean so many things. And, hell, it feels so odd to be speaking about something so personal with her stick-up-the-arse sexist-as-hell boss, no matter how vaguely, and her voice sounds unnaturally high. Stevenson had always made her feel as though her pregnancy was little more than a minor inconvenience.

"His loss, I'm sure. But... I'm sorry to hear that." He sounds it too, and Kate wonders momentarily, if Stevenson has children. She's never wondered anything as human as that about him, had always thought of him is some overbearing robot programmed to make her job as boring as possible. But now, as they look at each other, it's as if they're both understanding each other in a way they never have before. She hadn't missed the fact that Stevenson had known the sailor by nickname, either. That, maybe, they'd been friends. The feeling unsettles her.

He's the one to break the silence, to shake his head and regather his usual air of purpose. "Listen, Lieutenant, I called you in because I think you should be the one to speak to the widow." He says the words in a rush, as though he's not completely sure of them himself.

"Me?!" Kate splutters, completely blindsided. "Uh... no. Sir, I couldn't! I... _why?_" He looks quite unsure of the reason himself, and it strikes her that she's never seen him looking quite so lost before. For a moment, his hand flails in midair, as though the answer he seeks is just out of reach.

Then, just as suddenly, his hands fall limply to his side. And he looks like little more than an old man. "I know we haven't always... always had the warmest of work relationships. I know I'm not the easiest person to work for. And... and I'm aware that I'm not the most sensitive of people. But they-" His voice falters, and it takes him a moment to recover. "Look, I've known the family for years but... in her case, I think having another woman there would... would be of some comfort to her." He hesitates once more. "I... I think you'd connect well with her in a way that I..." He trails off yet again. Then clears his throat awkwardly, then returns to his usual brisk tone. "Did Winter bring you up to speed on the events?"

"No." Kate echoes his professional tone, folding her arms, even though she's beyond bewildered by the constantly changing tones that Stevenson is taking. "He was on the phone as well. I came straight in."

"Well, I'll give you the reports to read through. Take them home if you wish, get yourself familiarised with it all and... and she'll be here first thing tomorrow morning." For the first time, it strikes Kate that her boss might not be _such _an arsehole after all. "And Kate? _This _is your only job. Nothing else matters right now." He shifts a stack of papers unnecessarily.

She knows it's bordering on weird, but she can't stop the question from tumbling from her lips. "Did you... did you know him, Sir?"

He turns back to her. Bows his head slightly. "Yes." He murmurs.

She nods, her jaw set. "I'm sorry, Sir."

* * *

She spends the rest of the reading and rereading any information she can in regards to the Lieutenant Commander, until she can close her eyes and see every curl of every letter in each report. She closes her eyes and sees the incident like a movie in her head on a loop. He'd looked so proud in the photograph attached to his file, so eager and determined. How tragic that this was the way his life had ended.

It's not just this report that's stressing her out, or the prospect of speaking to his wife. Of course, that upcoming conversation is filling her with anxiety. But it's more than that. Pure fear in knowing that she might one day read a report with Boxer's name, or Libby's or Mike's.

And she knows it's selfish. To be feeling gratitude that, this time at least, it wasn't someone she cared about. She's not heartless, of course. She feels the loss that the RAN has sustained, the grief of one of their own. But there's also that small, guilty feeling. That flicker of relief, of escape. And she remembers, years ago, sitting in a philosophy classroom discussing that age-old moral question, of whether you would save five strangers or one friend. At the time, she'd been guided by morality. Now, the feelings filling her have her questioning everything she'd ever thought about herself, and she hates that, right now, a family is grieving the loss of a father, a husband, a son and brother. And she is sitting, comfortable, at her desk, with a baby on the way, feeling relief that her friend was alive, that someone else had paid the price.

"You okay?" Winter's voice jolts her from her thoughts, and she snaps the folder shut, guilt sending a flush to her cheeks, even though she's done nothing wrong. More for something to do than any real thirst, she busies herself with opening her desk drawer, and fishing out her bottle of cordial.

"Yeah." It's a lie. A lie that even he would see through.

They've never really been close. Sure, she listened as he talked about his wife and he in turn was polite enough to smile and nod as she told him of her latest ultrasound appointment or weekend plans with Tony or whatever other pitiful excuses for a social life she had going on. But they'd never really properly talked about their feelings. And it's not something she wishes to change in a hurry.

He pauses, just for a moment. And then bows his head. "Okay." He agrees. "Good luck."

* * *

"So, why you?" Libby asks, raising her voice to be heard over the hissing and spitting of the frying pan. "I mean, nothing against you, but there must be other people. Especially ones Stevenson knows better than you."

"I really don't know." Kate shrugs, as she turns a page in the file, even though she already knows it by heart. She'd decided to bring it home with her, after restless energy brought on by her anxiety sent her desperate to escape the office. It's not the way she'd wanted to spend her last free day with Libby. "He thinks she'll be more comfortable with me? I don't know." She rakes a hand through her hair distractedly. "I'm as socially awkward as... well..." She trails off, not quite sure how she's to finish the analogy. "Maybe 'cos there aren't that many women there at _Harman _and he thinks she'll respond better? I don't know."

Libby nods, and tosses the meat into the frying pan with the veggies. They both know that Libby is really the only close female friend Kate has ever had, mostly due to her inadequacy in communicating with woman. She'd never really been one to care about clothes or makeup or boys, all those things that women outside of the Navy cared about. Not until Mike, anyway. "Have you ever worked with either of them?"

"Not really." Kate shakes her head, still not looking up. "I mean, I recognise him by name. I've spoken to him a few times on the radio. Not anything more than that and nothing to do with her, really. Although I've read about her." When Libby looks confused, Kate clarifies. "His wife. She's led a pretty impressive career."

"Oh, she has!" Libby jumps in eagerly to this topical tangent. "Did you read about her involvement in INTERFET? Incredible!" She reaches up and retrieves two plates from the cupboard above her. "Never met her though. Dinner's ready, by the way."

Kate nods tensely, closing the file with a heavy sigh and pulling herself to her feet with a barely suppressed groan of effort. Every time she gets up, she feels about ten kilos heavier than when she'd sat down. Shrimp responds with what feels like an elbow to her bladder. She sets the files down upon the coffee table and moves into the kitchen. "You didn't need to cook for me, you know."

Libby doesn't bother to look up, instead heaping a large spoonful of the stir-fry onto Kate's plate. "Don't start with the food arguments again. Gotta look out for that kid of yours." Kate freezes, her smile fading as quickly as it had come, and Libby frowns. "Kate?"

Kate swallows. Forces herself to meet Libby's eye. "They had a kid."

Libby's smile fades too. "Shit." She murmurs.

* * *

She doesn't sleep well. Shrimp seems to pick up on her anxiety, moving every time she starts to drift off. Tension mounts in her head, growing into a steady headache by midnight. When she does manage to sleep, her dreams are full of twisted images, of gunshots and blood and death. Twice, she dreams it is Mike on the ground, before his face morphs into Libby's, then Boxer's, eyes glazed and empty. Then herself, with a faceless baby screaming beside her, just out of reach. And each time, she wakes in a panic, feeling the dreams are more like premonitions. As if she's on borrowed time.

By daybreak, she's on edge. She's already shredded her fingernails, so she makes herself sick in a desperate attempt to quash some of the nausea she's feeling. It doesn't help, and when she emerges from the bathroom and begins pacing, Libby sits up from her pile of blankets on the lounge, shaking her head. "Kate, stop honey. It'll be okay."

But she doesn't feel okay. This might be the most un-okay she's felt, so completely out of her depth. Because she's never been able to comfort others properly, never been good at validating feelings or being the shoulder to cry on. No. She'd offer practical solutions, or distractions or ways to treat physical symptoms, so that many of Libby's crying sessions ended with the two of them drunk, or in comfort food-comas, which she knows all too well don't actually _help _fix the problems at hand. And she wishes that Mrs O was here, with her soothing words and comforting presence.

"I can't do this!" She raises her fingers to her mouth, even though her fingernails are barely slithers. She's about ready to curl into a ball, drag a blanket over her head and hide, or pack a bag and run away to some far off country. "Why anyone would think-"

"Kate, _stop!_"

"I can't!" Kate shakes her head. "I haven't slept, I keep... keep imagining this poor guy dead on some rotting boat deck and I don't even know him! My head is splitting open and... and I have no idea how to comfort them and- and this is what I'm doing to Shrimp! Erasing their father from their life just like-"

"_Hey!_" Libby grabs Kate's shoulders and forces her to turn around. "You're going to do this. Just like you've done everything else in your life!"

"Lib..." She doesn't know how to voice what she's feeling. How to articulate the emotions swirling around inside of her. But this whole thing has her thinking. Fearing. "Lib, I... I'm going to go to a lawyer. Make it official. But if something happens to me-"

"Kate-"

She shakes her head again. Raises her voice to speak over Libby. "_If something happens to me_ then... then I'm giving you guardianship of Shrimp. To... to make sure they're in a home with someone who loves them... wherever that might be. And... and that you'll be in their lives. And make sure they're okay-"

"Kate..." Libby moves closer and wraps her arm around Kate's shoulders. But she doesn't need comfort right now. She just needs to know that, if the time ever came, that Shrimp will be looked after. So she pulls away, wraps her arms around herself.

"Libby, please." Her voice cracks, tears filling her eyes once more. "Please. I just... I need to know that if something ever happens then... then Shrimp isn't going to get bounced around from place to place with no one-"

"Never." Libby interrupts, squeezing Kate's hand once more. "I would _never _let that happen. That little one in there?" Libby brushes a hand against Kate's belly. "They've got me. Forever. No matter what."

And it's this, more than anything else, that gives her the strength to carry on.

* * *

Kate's not sure exactly what she's expecting when she arrives at work. That there would be black wall hangings to mark mourning, perhaps. Or to be greeted with the fallen sailor's grieving family while rain lashed the windows. But, to the casual observer, at least, the office seemed just like normal. People were still going about their normal business, flurries of phone calls and the sound of printing paper and all the rest of those usual sounds. No, the only thing different, really, is the Australian flag hanging out the front, set at half mast. The sight of it brings a lump to her throat.

She isn't sick again, though she so desperately feels nauseous enough. Her headache reaches such intensity that she caves and swallows two Panadol, even though she'd been determined to avoid anything of the sort during her pregnancy. And then she paces.

Until _she _arrives. His wife. His widow. Not dressed in black, or sobbing, but in uniform. Somehow, the image seems more confronting than pure hysteria. She's younger than Kate had imagined too. Too young to be a widow. But then, Kate chastises herself straight away, because she knows there is no minimum age for death. That was one of the more terrifying things about their job. The unknown. The knowledge that every day could be their last.

Kate had wondered if she'd come with somebody to support her, or perhaps bring their child along. But she's alone, twisting a golden band around and around on her finger. And she faces Kate almost as though she's readying herself for battle. All of Kate's pre-prepared speeches seem to fly from her brain, and for a moment she simply stares as the woman slowly but surely makes her way towards her. She stops, just out of Kate's reach, too far for a handshake.

"Ma'am. I'm Lieutenant McGregor. I'm so very sorry for your loss." The words seem hollow in Kate's throat, and dammit, there's a lump in her throat and she's just willing herself not to cry too. This poor woman doesn't need the burden of Kate's fucked up emotions on top of everything else.

The woman hardly seems to know what to say. Fixing her gaze somewhere at Kate's shoulder, she manages to croak emotionlessly. "Thank you."

"Ma'am, would you..." Kate swallows. Digs her fingernails into her palm. Tells herself to get it together. For the Navy. For this woman. For herself. And when she next speaks, her voice is stronger. "Is there anything I can get you before we begin? Tea? Coffee? Water?"

"Let's just... just do this." She murmurs softly. "And... please call me Maxine."

* * *

She's painfully aware of Stevenson's gaze fixed on her through the glass, as though waiting on edge for Kate to start shrieking, or some other ghastly behaviour. And she feels that same irritation she's always felt with him, that he views her as little more than an unstable woman. Part of her wants to go out there and tell him to speak to Maxine himself, if it was so damned important. But then she forces herself to remember that, of course, this is hard for all of them.

Besides, she's not here for him, just as she's not here in spite of him. This - her irritation towards her boss - has nothing to do with the here and now. She's here for Maxine White. And so she concentrates on her.

While Maxine is in perfect uniform - a Lieutenant Commander White, just like her husband - Kate can see the smaller details that show just how unsettled she really is. Several strands of hair are already escaping from her bun, and there are deep shadows under her blotchy eyes. Of course, it's only because Kate's really looking that she sees this small details. If she were to pass her in the street, Kate is sure she wouldn't look twice, but here, now, as Kate takes in those smaller details, she knows that Maxine is a woman who exudes power. Control.

"Ma'am-" Her voice falters, and she hastens to correct her syntax. "Uh, _Maxine_. Please, take a seat."

Maxine nods and takes a seat in one of the chairs. It's straight-backed and office-y, not at all comfortable or welcoming or soothing. And Kate wonders briefly why the Navy couldn't have organised a better space for this meeting. Or should that have been her responsibility? She knows a comfortable space won't make any difference in the grand scheme of things, but the table still has smudges of pen on it, for goodness' sake. A dirty table, and a paper plate with half a dozen Scotch Finger biscuits was the best they could come up with. The water jug in front of them isn't even chilled, the cups mismatched. As though Jeff White's death was little more than a minor inconvenience and, this, a hurried formality. Maxine looks up, catches Stevenson watching them through the glass. "Roy sent you in, then?" She asks, shaking her head as she fixes her gaze back on the table. "Typical."

"Roy?" It takes Kate a second to connect the first name to Stevenson. "Oh. Yes, Commander Stevenson thought that you'd... uh..." Kate swallows awkwardly. "I can get him, if you'd be more comfortable-"

"Comfortable?" Maxine shakes her head, and despite the situation, there's a flicker of amusement in her gaze. "That man has all the personality of a wet paper bag. We served together. A good officer, but useless with emotions..." She trails off. "Well, I don't suppose it matters, anyway." She tightens her grip on the table top. "What happened to my husband?"

Her voice is perfectly normal, a forced calm that Kate knows is just a façade. Kate can respect that. Even admire it. After all, it was that same false bravado she'd referred to so much at Watson's. And so she gives Maxine the information she needs. There is no easy way to explain, no gentle way of breaking the news. And she hopes, despite the bluntness of it all, that Maxine finds comfort in the facts, as Kate imagines she might, if she was ever in this situation. "At 0132 hours local time, your husband was part of a team apprehending a vessel of pirates. Lieutenant Com-" But Kate cuts herself off, swallowing hard, hating the impersonality of it all. "_Jeff _was first on." Maxine looks up at the mention of her husband's given name, locking eyes with her for the first time. For a moment Kate holds her breath, wondering if she's overstepped. But then Maxine gives a small nod of appreciation, and she continues. "He and his team managed to apprehend three of the five assailants on board. But as they moved below decks, one of the pirates opened fire with an automatic weapon. Jeff... Jeff returned fire, despite having been caught in the shoulder. With his weapon, he took out the fourth pirate but a junior sailor was wounded in the shoot-out. Jeff... Jeff maintained cover fire so that first aid could be applied but he was shot again in the process."

There is no way to sugar-coat the story. Maxine already knows the end of the story, but she flinches all the same. "Where?" She croaks. Uncertainly, as if she's not entirely sure she really wants to know.

Kate forces herself to keep looking at Maxine, to not hide behind the papers in front of her. "He was shot in the neck. His... his crew did all they could to try to save him. But unfortunately, he..." Kate tries to compose herself, imagining the terror of lying on a rotting boat deck with a bullet in your throat, or watching one of your team, your friends, go through that. "There was nothing they could do. I'm told... I'm told it was very quick." There's a soft intake of breath, a shudder, but Maxine otherwise gives no indication of breaking down. "Ma'am- uh, Maxine. What Jeff did... it was an incredibly selfless act of bravery. His actions... it saved lives." She averts her eyes once more. "I don't suppose that makes much of a difference right now, though."

"That was Jeff." Maxine manages a watery smile. "He... he was always..." But she trails off once more. "God, I can't believe this."

She forces herself to keep her voice steady. "A...arrangements are currently ongoing in regards to his..." She stumbles on the words again. She can't bring herself to reduce him to 'remains'. "In regards to bringing Jeff back home. And I shall keep you updated as new information comes to hand."

"Right." Maxine says, her voice hollow. Then she shakes her head. "I just... uh..." Maxine reaches forwards, takes one of the biscuits in her hand and breaks of a corner, nibbling on it. Crumbs fall to the table top, and she sweeps them away impatiently. "The others? Injured? Will they-"

"I'm told they're in a stable condition." Kate murmurs.

"And... and the one who shot him?"

"Dead."

"Right." Maxine repeats, with a small nod. For a moment, they simply look at each other. And then, without warning, she crumbles. The biscuit falls to the table with a dull thud as she drops her head into her hands, shoulders heaving with huge sobs. And there are words, or at least, attempts at words, but Kate can't make out any of it as Maxine breaks down in front of her.

Shrimp kicks against her ribs, as though urging her to do something. And even though she has no idea what she's doing, Kate leans across and rests a hand on Maxine's shoulder. "I'm not... I'm not the best at this. With emotions. I... I can't pretend to know what you need right now. But I'll try to help in whatever way I can. You don't need to do anything right now. Okay? We can sit as long as you want. You can ask me anything. Or we can just sit. I just... whatever you need."

It seems she still can't quite manage words, but she gives a nod, face still hidden, and Kate takes this as affirmation. Tentatively, she rises, and pulls the blinds closed on the internal windows, shielding Maxine from the bullpen outside. And then (with a little difficulty given her size) she kneels next to Maxine who, after a moment, manages to look up and swipe bitterly at the tears still streaming down her face. "I don't want to be here." She says it with a laugh that's completely devoid of humour. Like a nervous child. "I just don't want to be here."

Kate nods, and feels the tears prick the corners of her eyes yet again. "I know." She agrees, squeezing Maxine's hand. "I know."

* * *

Half an hour later sees Kate and Maxine seated opposite each other in a Cafe on the other side of town. Kate had changed into a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt, and has her arms wrapped around a hot chocolate. She'd expected Stevenson to protest the change of location, but he'd simply nodded when Kate had briefed him. _Whatever she needs_, he'd said. Maxine had changed too, after first requesting the change of location and attire. _I just need to get away from the Navy, _she'd murmured, and Kate had nodded in understanding. They'd stopped off briefly at Maxine's motel so that she could change and then made their way into town.

Now, it was a loose flannelette shirt that swamped Maxine, and even though Kate doesn't ask, and Maxine doesn't say, Kate knows that it's one of her husband's. This realisation does nothing to make Kate feel any better.

"I'm sorry." They're the first words that Maxine had spoken to her since they'd arrived. She'd seemed to compose herself away from the confines of _Harman, _hiccuping herself into some attempt at calamity as they sat in Kate's car. Now she sat, twirling her spoon around and around her cup of coffee, a slice of banana bread in front of her. "I feel so embarrassed. I'm... I'm burdening you with my misery and I don't even remember your first name. I know you told me but-"

"It's Kate." She answers quickly. "And... it's fine."

"Kate." Maxine repeats the name with a small smile. Her spoon clinks noisily against the porcelain of her cup. "That's what we were going to call our son, if he had been a girl." Son. The word hits Kate hard. That a boy, right now, was dealing with the loss of a parent. "We had so many girls names. It... it took us over a week to settle on Ryan."

"You... you just have the one?" Kate asks, even though she knows this already from Jeff's file.

"Jeff wanted more. But..." Maxine exhales heavily. "It was never the right time? I don't know." She lifts her hands up to her bun, freeing her hair absently. "We married straight out of the academy." Maxine murmurs. "Had Ryan a couple of years later and... and we were apart all the time, you know, different postings, different hours. But... but it never felt like we were apart, you know?"

It hurts that Kate _doesn't _know. Strikes her that she might _never _know this simple feeling of belonging, of being loved. But it doesn't really seem as though Maxine is talking to her anyway. Rather that she needed to talk about Jeff and that Kate was as good an audience as any. So Kate simply nods and lets Maxine go on with her conversation.

"It's always in the back of your mind, you know? But... but none of this feels real. I just..." The sleeves of the flannie hide her hands almost from sight, they're so long. Does the shirt still smell like him? "I just keep waiting for him to call." There's nothing Kate feels she can say to that. 'Sorry' seems to weak a word. But then Maxine blurts out, "It's my fault."

"What?" Kate is so completely taken aback, so genuinely thrown that she protests instantly. "No! How could it possibly be-"

"I pushed him to take the job!" Maxine cuts off her words, and it's like she's shrinking smaller and smaller into the folds of the fabric while her words grow more and more frantic. "He didn't want a frigate posting. He wanted to... to have something closer to home. But it was something he'd wanted, years ago, when we were at the academy. So I pushed him to take it and... and now-"

"No." Kate shakes her head. "_No. _You _encouraged_ him because you loved him. And he chose to take it." The look on Maxine's face is a stab in the heart to Kate. A mixture of scepticism and the desperate need to believe what Kate is saying. And there are still no words important enough to impress upon Maxine what Kate needs to say, the enormity of this situation, but she can't let things stand. "This... it was just... just some shitty thing that... that was a combination of so many different factors." Even though Kate doesn't know Jeff, and doesn't know Maxine, she keeps talking, because she knows, instinctively, that it's the truth. "He knows that you love him."

The silence fills. Or not silence. Not really. All around are people, eating and chatting and going on with their days. Trivial noises. Trivial problems. And here Kate is trying desperately to help this woman she barely knows. "I keep... I keep thinking about all that time I wasted. Time with him. All those things I never asked him. Never told him. And now he's gone and... and I'm realising all those things I never..." She trails off again and stabs moodily at the piece of banana bread with a mixture of longing and disgust on her face. "I keep thinking that I'm... I'm grieving. I shouldn't even be able to think about food at a time like this. But... but I just can't stop eating. I'm... I'm hungry all the time. And then I feel guilty and nauseous." She gives another humourless laugh. "He was my husband and... and all I can think about is cake and... and fucking hamburgers. And... and I keep thinking about all that time I wasted. All those stupid fucking arguments!" She jerks her arm suddenly, knocking her coffee cup to the ground where it shatters. _"Shit." _Maxine seizes a wad of serviettes and scrambles to mop up the sodden mess, but almost immediately recoils, several beads of blood blooming on a fingertip. _"Shit!"_

Kate takes another few napkins and presses them to Maxine's fingers, just as a flurry of movement announces that one of the cafe workers has approached. She looks barely out of high school, peering at the scene with a mixture of trepidation and confusion. "Is everything okay here?"

"Hand slipped." Kate mumbles, flashing a small smile in the woman's direction. "Ah, she'll be okay. Sorry." Kate manages to tug at Maxine's arm and, after a moment, the woman returns to her seat, face flushed. She's silent as the worker cleans up the broken china and mops up the coffee, only speaking when she's gone.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs. "Can't even drink a coffee without causing chaos." She bites her lip anxiously. "Don't... don't take that for granted, you know? When you find that person. I mean, _you. _You've... you've got a baby on the way and... and a whole life ahead of you. Don't waste that. Even when-"

"There's no one!" Kate cuts in, a little more harshly than she'd intended. A moment later she realises just how curt she'd been and swallows awkwardly. "I mean... I don't... it's just me."

"Sorry?"

"I'm... I'm single. I'm not with Shrimp's dad." Kate feels her face flushing. "Uh... the baby, I mean. I'm... it's just me."

"Oh." Maxine drags a hand over her face. "Shit. I'm sorry. I... I shouldn't have..."

"Don't be." Kate shrugs, and runs a hand over her middle. It's odd, really. How she can be so okay and so _not _okay at the same time.

"So you're doing it alone, then." Maxine murmurs, more to herself than to Kate. "God, I could never be that brave. I-" But she stops herself suddenly. Maybe because she's just realised that she _will _have to be brave enough to do that.

There's a very awkward pause after that, as both of them struggle to say something, _anything. _Kate fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. "I loved him. Shrimp's dad. But... I don't know." She stalls for time by taking a sip of her hot chocolate, considering her words. "Wrong timing, maybe? It couldn't work, and it had to end. After it all went south... after I found out I was pregnant... I couldn't get over how stupid I'd been. To... to fall for him and... and let myself become so vulnerable. Throw away my career. But now... well, I'm really excited to be a Mum."

"I didn't really know if I was cut out for it, when I found out." Maxine gives a small laugh. "It wasn't even me that figured it out first. I kept... kept falling asleep in the middle of the day and I would be seriously crawling up the walls wanting cheeseburgers all the time. And poor Jeff was so nervous when he goes _hey Maxie, do you think you could be pregnant?_" She smiles at the memory. "We'd only been married about eight months. Still... still figuring out all those normal couple things. And I had to take about twelve tests before I was convinced. But Jeff... well, he was ready. Right from the word go. Super Dad."

"He sounds like a great guy."

"He is." Maxine peels back the serviette to inspect the cut on her hand. "_Was."_ She corrects.

"Where's Ryan today?"

"He's with his godfather. He came to help me out." Maxine sniffs. "Did you tell the guy you were pregnant?"

"Nope."

"Bit of a bastard, then?" Maxine frowns.

Part of her wishes that he had been. Because somehow, the fact that she can imagine him as an attentive father hurts more. "No."

They lapse into silence again, both lost in their own thoughts. Maxine picks at the banana bread absently, while Kate traces a finger around the rim of her mug. "Have you thought of any names?" Maxine asks suddenly. When Kate hesitates, she adds, "Please. I need the distraction."

"I haven't... I haven't really." Kate hesitates, because even though she doesn't really know Maxine, she still knows the most intimate details of her husband's death. It's a strange feeling, really. To be so close to someone, and yet hardly know them at the same time. "I like... I like Flynn. For a boy." It's the first time she's said that out loud. The confession feels shameful, as though she's admitting some deep dark secret. "I have the opposite problem to you, I guess. All these boys names. But I don't have a clue about girls names."

Maxine gives a snort of laughter. "Jeff liked Clementine. I threatened divorce."

Kate winces. "I think I would too."

"Flynn is a nice name." Maxine murmurs.

"And if it's a girl, I'm screwed." Kate tips her head to the side.

"So you don't know what you're having?"

Kate rubs a hand on her middle. "No. I don't. But... I kind of think it's a boy." One who will never know his father, his namesake. Just like Ryan.

"Think or hope?" Maxine poses the question casually enough, but the words bring Kate to a halt.

"Mothers and daughters..." Kate begins tentatively, trying to find the right words. "Well... we don't have the best track record in my family."

"Ha. My mother was a raving lunatic. Tried to baptise Ryan three times behind our backs."

The words are on the tip of Kate's tongue, bitter and ugly. _My mother abandoned me. _But for some reason, she doesn't voice them. "My mother is... complicated." She says instead, though she doesn't exactly know what that means.

"And now we're both doing it alone." Maxine finishes, bitterly. For a moment they both look at each other, and their understanding seems to be beyond words. "We've got to be enough." She murmurs, and even though her voice cracks, there's determination in her gaze. "We've got to be."

* * *

They don't talk much on the drive back to Maxine's hotel. Despite all of their differences, despite not even really knowing each other, Kate feels a kinship with the woman she can't quite explain. After disclosing her fears about being a mother, and her doubts she was doing the wrong thing, and with Maxine in turn talking about Jeff, she feels closer to this woman she barely knows. Closer in a way she can't quite put into words.

It's scary, really. Boxer and Libby knew everything about her, but she'd known them for years and this, this inexplicable connection is terrifying Kate. She's grieving with Maxine, grieving the loss of this man she's never met. She feels Maxine's despair and hopelessness like physical pain, and it redoubles as they pull up outside the nondescript motel and spy the young boy kicking a soccer ball with no real enthusiasm. And Kate knows, just by Maxine's reaction, that it's her son. He looks like Jeff, or at least resembles the man from the photographs, with the same brown hair and thin face. Will she be like that? Seeing the ghost of Mike in every glance at Shrimp? Not that Mike was dead. Just... gone.

"Thank you for today, Kate." Maxine murmurs, tearing her eyes away from Ryan in favour of smiling sadly up at her. Her words snap Kate out of her reverie again, and she composes her face accordingly. "I... I don't exactly know what I was expecting but you... you've been..."

"Oh, I haven't done anything-" Kate begins, shaking her head.

"No. You have." Maxine speaks over her, eyes wide with sincerity. "I mean, to just talk about Jeff and not just his death..." She trails off.

"I wish I'd met him properly." Kate says, and she means it. "If you ever need someone to talk to-"

"I'll call." Maxine finishes the thought. "And... let me know... when bubs is born."

Compared to the depth of their previous conversation, their goodbye is awkward and clunky. But it doesn't really matter. Not in the grand scheme of their uncertain futures. Kate nods, and Maxine clambers from the car, knocking her bag on the door as she stands. She has to stoop to collect a lip balm and her wallet from the concrete, She shoulders her bag and gets out of the car. "Thanks, Kate."

The door closes, and Kate watches as Maxine makes her way over to the boy. He abandons his ball and meets his mother halfway, wrapping his arms around her. Ryan, just like Shrimp, will grow up without a father. And it hits her again, how utterly selfish she is. Ryan is there, with his world torn apart, and here she is, choosing the very same thing for her baby. She's close enough to see the tears trailing down Maxine's cheeks, and the pinched expression on Ryan's face as he tries desperately not to cry.

And then, Kate's heart skips a beat.

Immediately, before her brain has fully processed what she's seeing, _who _she's seeing. Because the man standing watching them is horribly, horribly familiar.

For a moment - the briefest fraction of time - she allows herself to consider that she might have imagined him or... or that her brain is playing tricks on her, because she'd been thinking of him. But as she continues to examine the man's features, she realises that this is no mistake, no trick of the light. It's Mike.

Immediately, she wracks her brain, trying to remember exactly what Maxine had said about the man that had been caring for Ryan. _Godfather. _That had been all, she was sure. God knows Maxine hadn't batted an eyelid when she'd-

_Shit. _She'd even _mentioned _the name Flynn, as if that wasn't a complete giveaway.

She tightens her grip on the steering wheel. She could just drive away. Maxine didn't know who Shrimp's father was, and Mike hadn't seen her. She could go about her life as usual, Maxine and Mike would return to their own lives and she... well, the secret could stay a secret.

Except...

Except this isn't as simple as just driving away. It requires so much more power of will. She doesn't believe in fate, not really, but even she had to admit that in the grand scheme of things, this degrees of separation between them, this crazy, tragic set of circumstances meant-

He glances up. Glances up without warning, locking eyes with her. And there's no time to drive away, to hide her face or duck or anything else. He's seen her. Close enough to recognise her. Close enough for her to see the reaction on his face, the train of one emotion, and then another.

Confusion.

Shock.

Fear.

He opens his mouth, takes a step forward. And Kate isn't sure what he's about to say or do, so she reacts on instinct.

She drives away.

* * *

**A/N: **_So, I'm sticking with the whole pre-season five backstory of Maxine's as opposed to that travesty in the show. Ryan is definitely NOT Mike's son in this. Sorry for the delay but life has been crazy. Hopefully this appeases you all :) Thanks_


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